Cold air seeps into the deepening crevices of scab encrusted skin.
The constant ticking pecked holes into my leg that I eventually gnawed away with my finger nails.
Taking every gangrene scab and collecting until I had enough to make a scar.
Knee ache and cold sweat. I was hurting without being hit.
My coat was my solitude, even though I was asked many times to take it off.
Three months passed like hours on a Sunday.
Guttural noises spewed hacks and hunks in the sink and the toilet.
I recalled some lunch everyday and sometimes it was polite enough to keep it's place.
The cold found the cracks and I tried to push it out,
Drenching me in lukewarm tears.
I departed from all the comfortable and reached towards medicine.
My friends turned to blurs and consequently into strangers.
I found
bandages,
Valium,
and wounds underneath my skin.
Relentless sting, drowning in my self inflicted acid.
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