08-14-2019, 11:29 PM
CATHARSIS
1. your head pounds. your heart pounds. your fists pound a bag of sand, over and over, again, again, again, and you hear bones crack that are not your own. the blood on your knuckles is no less satisfying than if it were his.
2. the end of the year brings a summer bonfire with all of your classmates. the faces blur together with one too many beers. you throw back your head and yell like a banshee, like a wild thing. i am free now, your scream says. your classmates howl with you and their earth shattering chorus of no more goes on for miles.
3. poetry, photography, acrylic paint, short stories. you create everything you can to escape the destruction you left behind.
2. the end of the year brings a summer bonfire with all of your classmates. the faces blur together with one too many beers. you throw back your head and yell like a banshee, like a wild thing. i am free now, your scream says. your classmates howl with you and their earth shattering chorus of no more goes on for miles.
3. poetry, photography, acrylic paint, short stories. you create everything you can to escape the destruction you left behind.
little god raised up in grass
lord of fields and valleys vast
chatelaine | she/they | characters | storage
⅓ of hell chat | general disaster
⅓ of hell chat | general disaster