Against Reality

The deep gaping wounds shined in the dark warm light that swallowed most souls whole. It hadn't stolen mine, and this is exactly why the said gauges occupy my arm, leg, and stomach. If you had any idea, any at all, you would have your own scars and stories to tell.
Still fresh,
Dripping _Crimson

------------^Saccharine _Liquid.

I'm begging you to be my escape, but I know this is the only one continually, perpetually, unending, always there for me.
Don't tell me I misuse words. I make adjectives into nouns and vise versa.
I like it that way.
I like my red.
I like your pure.
It's only a matter of time before this hissing blurs into one giant incognito secret.
A secret that wants to befriend me.
A secret that wants to bite into me.
A secret that loves keeping things fragmented and broken.
Because I get so caught up in this.
That I assume the worst,
I keep bad habits,
I unimproved,
And I keep the mindful me tucked safely away.
far, far away
I've written you letters and kept them for myself.
Kept them on myself.
By myself.
And now I'm urged by these effervescing confessing masses of cloying crap.
Consume me,
Swallow me whole.
Tell me your stories.
Your story life.
And all the flaws you call infallible will fall into my complete and utter bull.
Which I live to manipulate, photo-wise and people-wise.
I am a sentence fragment.
And there are suggestions, only a consideration for revisement.
I am made up words.
And there are suggestions, only a consideration for reality.
Which I rebel.
Against.
Completely.