red nails scratching to let something out.
"STOP THAT SCRATCHING!"
they are silenced. frozen. they spread out and press on the sore to make it warm. cool it down with heat.
then they begin to move back and fourth again, they want to let it out.
"YOU STOP THAT! YOU HEAR ME!?"
but it's too late. the blood pours out, screaming, i want help. draining down her arm in streaks.
now his nails are moving, in a tapping motion. bored with this, ignoring this, tap tap tap on the table beside him.
"i know you see this." she wispers.
he looks over, tired. pushes himself up and walks toward her slowly. pulls up her arm when he gets there, close to his bony face. opens his mouth, licks up the blood in one long delicate motion, then kisses the opening. hard.
her arm tenses from the burn.
"let it go now." he says, his eyes trailing up to meet hers. "let it go."
if i were an artist, i'd look like this.
if i were an artist, i'd look like this.
