May 16, 2008

I don't know...

It feels like there's something on me... Some thick layer of filth and oil, dragging itself from my feet to my head. It binds my legs so I can't run, constricts my body so I can't breath, can't struggle, can't stretch. It's on my face, and I can't scrub it away. It made my hair into straw, and now it burns and burns and dried into straw.

My insides feel blackened, coated in oil and rubbed with dirt and dust. My eyes are greased and rubbery. My whole self feels asthough it's writing in tar, gripping at nothing but black muck. I can't climb out, I can't break free and I just keep sinking.

Even this little scrap of something that pulls me free isn't enough to clean it from me. I feel it dripping, sucking off my skin and sticking to everything and I can't move. It stinks and it's raw and I can't escape the smell. I can't breathe. I can't wipe it away and let myself heal. I want to rip off my skin, pull out my hair and roll in salt, let it scrub me until I'm clean again.

I can't get away.

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