The rope slumps, an unstrung throat.
Pills rattle like broken teeth.
The mirror unmouths my name,
gulps me in glass, spits static.
Outside, the city chews its own tongue.
Streetlights pulse like exposed nerves.
I step forward.
Or maybe I don’t.
The night swallows.
Nothing shifts.
Mar 8, 2025
Mar 8, 2025 at 4:35 PM UTC
The rope slumps, an unstrung throat.
Pills rattle like broken teeth.
The mirror unmouths my name,
gulps me in glass, spits static.
Outside, the city chews its own tongue.
Streetlights pulse like exposed nerves.
I step forward.
Or maybe I don’t.
The night swallows.
Nothing shifts.
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