A day or so ago....
I caught myself walking through walls.
No, no.
The crawling----
I can't leave the house anymore. I can't.... It's just too stressful. I don't pick up the phone, don't answer the doorbell. Not many people have come to call, the few who really cared did, but I hid away and they've stopped knocking now... I don't want to see them. I need them to forget me... and oh, oh the crawling... For hourseandhours I sit under the steamy hot water of the shower, scrubbing and scrubbing until my skin is raw, --- I don't know why I think that the scrubbing helps--- it doesn't. Maybe I think I can scrub away the sensation, like I thought I could scrub away the... the---
The blood scribbles on my wall.
But I couldn't.
It hasn't come back to write.
But I know it has come back--
To watch me.
I know.
Because I hear it sometimes, crooning my name in the dark.
It calls to me--- calls my.. my name... in the dark...
But no... that's not my name.
It calls me... [xxxxxxxxx.]
I don't like hate that name.
But that's not my name...
It's---
It's....
What---- what is my name?
Ohgod... I can't recall myownname.
********.
Cheza Calanthe Community Member |
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Community Member
It's [me?] talking writing.
Not the... the thing---
the thing that---
Smears the blood
writes on my walls.