burnt
i dreamt something weird. it was like COVID: desperation, doom. it was like war: i return to an empty house. i open a book, and immediately wish i hadn't, because the horrors within it crack me open as uncontrollably as a lightning bolt, and i am split into a thousand layers, and cannot ever be sewn up again. the book holds images of burnt limbs and charred bodies. the feeling i have, of being haunted for eternity, is like i've been burnt myself, down to the bone, my skull exposed to infection. luckily my dad's still around, in the basement. he's seen the same atrocities. life is a curse. it's torture to suffer this existence. we have been stained. i'm so traumatized and still so scared.
we grieve.