On four hours of sleep, one’s brain tends to act up. Sometimes it decides to write a story without telling you why or what it’s about. Like this one.

She chewed on her lip.
It felt like putty between her teeth.
It felt good.

The pain was searing now,
but what use was pain
when the world was crashing down?

When he found her,
alone between the walls of brick and bone,
smeared with dust and debris,
he kissed the sobbing, bleeding flesh she had gnawed so viciously.

“I love you,” he said.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: