closing in

There’s a hunger that can’t be sated. I find myself climbing raggedly, obsessively, toward a peak of satisfaction only to be denied upon reaching it, cast back down the mountain, like an inconsequential stone. 

I can’t seem to stop. I’ve been having sex compulsively, eating like I will never do it again, and sleeping until the pain of laying down is too much to bear. The enjoyment is either substantial or nothing, like a coin is tossed and fate is decided upon it. And the last few times I’ve touched myself, I can’t finish. I lay frustrated, covered in sweat and breathing heavy, unable to be angry and too demolished in every manner to discern the reason why. Everything is broken, and I feel like the jagged shards are pricking at my insides, trying to find their way out through my skin. 

I don’t know what I want or where I’m going. But I want to sleep and fuck until I can’t physically manage it anymore. 

I dream in red.


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