Saturday, June 12

Her mouth opened up and all that was inside was cobwebs. Her tongue was blackened and nothing moved, there was no inhale or exhale, her insides were empty. Her eyelashes stuck to her cheeks, they could not open. She wasn't even sure what she'd find if they were to open, would they even be there, or was the liquid that kept them stuck down simply the liquid of her eyeballs? She was so skinny now, her ribcage crawled above her skin, her flesh running in fear from the sharp edges of her bones. She wasn't human now, she was stuck inside her own homemade coffin, it was pink, or at least it was, before the insects and dirt got to it. She remembered back to the days of squashing bugs, she used to feel bad for it but now she wished she had killed more. It would be one less thing eating her. Her skeleton scratched at the cage, knowing now that whatever it was that pushed her over the edge two years previous, was something she could of moved past. She wanted her flesh back, she wanted her oxygen back, she wanted her life back. Instead she laid still in a coffin, over hearing the tears and sorrows of people who spoke to her above ground, knowing she couldn't reply, she couldn't scream, she just laid there, and listened.