you are collateral damage.

you look down at your hands, they are callused and bleeding in all the places your teeth broke the skin so many times, this is,

is this some small victory? is this war necessary? the sound breaks through the silence but it is still muffled. the bathroom door is closed. there are people on the sink, in the bathtub, you are puking and have no idea who is holding your hair back. you feel fingers shove their way into your throat. you bite down,

your hands are bleeding again. you don't know your limit, you fall in love again, it all just aches in your chest. you were pretending the whole time, oh my god, you were pretending the whole time. you are staring at your hands.

this death is inevitable and the artillery smiles at you with all the love of a new mother like the friendly fire is so friendly and these casualties are so casual. you are fighting a war with yourself. you are fighting a war with your body and you are fighting a war with whoevers *******
fingers
are in your
throat

and the body count is rising. the air teases your lungs.