nails.

she's got her nails dug a half inch into my back. you'd think all these miles apart would fucking stop her and make her let go. that harlot draws blood, but not with paint. she draws with venom. her eyes are icy, and her stare is cold. her nails are dug in one full inch. i ache with a hundred hypodermic needles. it's like the only thing i feel anymore is the pain in my back letting me detach from this life. she snorts a line of diamond dust. she's an anorexic skeleton on my back. her nails feel curved, twisted, distorted, strange. i try to transplant my state of mind from this scene, to another. i transfer my embodied soul from her talons to the desert. i find the lizard king, and slither away with him. we become lost in the desert. there's no time here. pam killed him, and this bitch killed me. jim and i gather beneath the rust-tinted cliffs, and plot revenge. we let it simmer because it is something we plan to serve very cold.