I close my eyes and sink beneath the horizon and the turmoil turns into a steady push and pull turns into stillness turns into nothingess, I look at my hands slowly turning colder and darker and I let them think - would I feel it now? But they always stay there, thoughts under the nails, tapping away but never planning to leave before the skin is blue and my eyes are closed and you have all stopped pretending and finally, finally it will be me. Anticipation twitching like the blood can still flow, but that's why I'll never let it.
©another
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