I’m not proud. At first, I wanted to try to slowly get my soul back. But I was framing losing my soul all wrong, treating it like a disease: something fickle and infectious. The soul viewed as the picture of health and wellness, sweet consistency. Fuck that. I want to fill my empty, cold vessel with the warm blood of whoever I encounter. And I will take it from them by force.

You would never know how easy it was to make the decision to jump into the icy, cold rapids from the top of the bridge that we were just chugging beers under The cruel chill frosted my lips but I felt warm as hot fudge I started laughing accidentally breathed in some water

It’s the middle of November and I’m trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don’t bury themselves. I dragged the sled with Dale’s gawky body on it, thankful I had been tending to my arm workouts lately. For such a skinny guy, he sure was heavy. I guess they call it ‘dead weight’ for a reason.

She was beautiful and rough around the edges. Her jaw was slightly crooked from that time she broke it after falling off a cliff while high on crack. She had been left for dead, but perservered. She was self-conscious about it, but you really couldn’t tell. She didn’t believe me though. Her hair was the same color as Courtney Love’s and it was sexily disarrayed, coming to the tops of her shoulders. She stomped around the west end of town with her vomit covered Doc Martens and exclusively wore black leggings or tights. A mint green shirt that flowed to her knees and had a breast pocket was the shirt she chose to wear for a month. The smell of her pheromones and parliament lights drove me crazy.

I stood there in the darkness, crying with the flow of the rain: hard and steady. I could hear an engine purring in the distance and getting louder by the second, heading towards me. I swallowed a wad of boogers that were falling down my throat as a result of my sobbing and nodded to myself. A blanket of light began to rollout towards me and I jumped into it. A loud grinding sound of metal on metal filled my ears as the car slammed on their brakes and I slammed my eyes shut.

Moonwalking into the past But the earth shatters beneath my feet Meteoroids of memories graze my skin Knocking off my balance Your hand always just out of reach

The grim reaper doesn’t get time off. He doesn’t have any employees or colleagues who could hold down the fort while he takes a holiday. There isn’t much downtime in his line of work, but sometimes he gets enough of a pause between clients to sit down and take a shit. Not often.

Lies are self-preservatives Keeping me from spoiling us for months, maybe even years if kept in a cool place. I don’t want to hurt you, I’ll expire on fear When you open me up, a putrid mess fills the room. I don’t know if you heard me screaming “I love you” When you threw me in the trash— It was probably hard to hear over all the gagging

The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again. One strong gust away from tumbling to the bottom. Too dumb to take a step back and put on a windbreaker.

If you hold on too tightly Grease will secrete making it impossible to grasp Obsession with fill the room like thick smoke in a house fire You know you’re fucked but that doesn’t stop you from getting as low to the floor as possible