An infection. Waiting to heal. Pulsing through my skin. Twitching at my bones.

I sit in the corner, nails scraping at the surface of my outer layer. Bleeding from the raptures of agony. Throat dry from the cries of the ruthless pain I feel.

Still I sit with this infection. Waiting for it to heal as it pulses through my skin. As my bones twitch vigorously.

The knee is connected to the leg bone, the leg bone is connected to the hip bone.

The infection has spread. Each connection, covered in scabs. The dead skin edging under my nails as blood starts dripping down. The anxiety of wanting it gone. The anticipation of the pain to grow. Just so you…

The infection. You.

I sit here with you. Waiting for you to heal as every part of you pulses through my skin. As I feel you twitching at my bones.

I feel you. You’re an infection.


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