You enter into the neighbor's room, clenching a knife cutting the morning light across the room. You are moving surreptitiously.
There is a colour on the knife. It's colour reflects an image of you upon it. You look down at your body, and notice the colour reflects there too.
You notice there are two people around you, a male and a female, and their colour is yours too.
You taste the colour of death on your tongue, you share the taste with the people in the room.
You share it with the knife, you share it with the floor, you share it with all the neighbor's next door.
You followed them home, to share the colour with them..
The colour alludes you, it brings you a high. You like how it tastes to die.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC
You enter into the neighbor's room, clenching a knife cutting the morning light across the room. You are moving surreptitiously.
There is a colour on the knife. It's colour reflects an image of you upon it. You look down at your body, and notice the colour reflects there too.
You notice there are two people around you, a male and a female, and their colour is yours too.
You taste the colour of death on your tongue, you share the taste with the people in the room.
You share it with the knife, you share it with the floor, you share it with all the neighbor's next door.
You followed them home, to share the colour with them..
The colour alludes you, it brings you a high. You like how it tastes to die.
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