#and the demon goes unfed once more

[themurderofcrowscollective]

The Demon In The Cell

When most people speak about prison, the first thing that pops into most minds are the crazed and dangerous criminals long dead or recently jailed. There's common thugs, baddies, even crooks, criminals and monsters... but speaking of monsters, you could be the coldest and meanest motherfucker there is except for one prison where even the worst of the worst are terrified for their lives. Before this unknown and masked monster came to this prison, the inmates used to be ruthless and dangerous but they changed for the better once the beast arrived and scared everyone with one look. Nothing is right with that demon. When she arrived, she was trolleyed in while wearing a full-body straightjacket and a mask hiding her whole face without any holes for her eyes to be seen, chained for extra measure and blindfolded underneath the mask. The look alone was terrifying but when the inmates dug up some dirt on her, her crimes had them consider their life choices. In less than a week, more prisoners reformed and started showing signs of redemption. Some of the prison wardens even stick cruel and monstrous criminals inside the same room as the demon, the very room in the basement that no one speaks about, and in 2 seconds the inmate is screaming and begging for freedom. They never speak about what happened in there. It has become so normal to have prisoners go free as reformed, redeemed or with their names cleared, that even corrupt cops are placed in the basement and immediately they confess. As for the demon, it has been 6 years of her 10 year sentence, unmoving, silent and unfed. Not a sound is heard from her but she stands as a grim reminder of what a monster truly looks like. However today, an innocent man is the first to approach her face to face. + + + [Prologue: Silent as Death itself.] With the metal door opening slowly, there is only darkness to meet the man before a light flickers on and reveals the 'demon' of the prison, a woman of tall height and bound in chains, a mask with a blindfold covering her eyes under it, and a full-body straightjacket. The door closes behind him and it feels like he's in the presence of the Devil herself. There is a chill in the air and it sinks into his skin, sending shivers down his spine but he doesn't break immediately. He's adamant of getting closer to the woman, unsure if she can sense him or not. There is too much going on through his mind as he places his hand on her mask and removes it with ease, showing her full face but the blindfold remains on. Her cheeks were slit open and carved into a Glasgow smile, but they were sewn up. However her words were so blasphemous that they sewn up her lips too, the stitches all red and swollen due to poor care of them. Reaching up to her face again, he caresses her face and hears a sigh of relief exhale from her nose as she relaxes. He isn't afraid, but rather... ...he's sorrowful. + + + [Chapter 1: Death Approaches.] The day begins just as normal as you think it could be, the wardens waking up inmates who get up begrudgingly and shuffle out towards the cafeteria, getting their food and sitting with their own cliques or gangs. Most of them are deep in thought about who's exactly coming to the jailhouse, taking guesses and making a small game about them. Around the end of breakfast, the new arrival comes and instantly everything goes silent. Everyone looks at the new arrival as she's wheeled in, as silent as Death and immediately they all feel a shiver down their spines. Something's not right with the new inmate but they stare in silence as the wardens take her to the basement and store her away in the darkest cell. With the metal door locking up tight with metal clanks, everyone looks at each other like 'oh fuck'. No one has been locked in there ever, but now with the inmate in there, they know she must've done something horrid.

#spooky fanfiction

[incorrect-shadowofthefox]

Yumeko: Hey Tatsumi-san, what do you want to eat?

Hakaimono: THE SOULS OF THE INNOCENT!

Tatsumi: A bagel.

Hakaimono: NOOO!

Tatsumi: Two bagels.

#and the demon goes unfed once more #shadow of the fox #yumeko #hakaimono #kage tatsumi #modern shadowfox #quote

[obeymestudentcouncil]

Headcanons From the Fall

I have some headcanons that I’ve more or less followed since near the start of the game.  Part of which formed the basis for “Sleepless”  That story, along with talking to some of my friends, helped cement some of the other ideas and I wanted to share them in case anyone else likes them/wants to build off them. TW for Self-harm

General: In the Celestial Realm, each of the original 6 brothers + Lilith represented the Seven Heavenly Virtues.  When they fell, each brother became the corresponding Cardinal Sin, with Satan taking Lilith’s place.  Thus we have:

Lucifer:  Humility --> Pride

Mammon:  Charity --> Greed

Leviathan:  Kindness --> Envy

Lilith/Satan:  Patience --> Wrath

Asmodeus:  Chastity --> Lust

Beelzebub:  Temperance --> Gluttony

Belphegor:  Diligence --> Sloth

After they fell, I feel like the physical changes occured almost instantly, wings changing from angelic to demonic - falling off in some cases, horns and tails forming quickly and likely as painfully as the damaged wings.

Their personalities?  That took a while.  They didn’t have a complete 180 in their personalities overnight, that took time to change.  And especially early on, I think it was a confusing thing for them.  Feeling emotions they’d never felt, thinking things about their brothers they’d never before considered.  In the early stages, they hid it as best they could, shamed at the thoughts and emotions warring within themselves.

Now, onto the indiviuals:

Lucifer-  His final act of humility was essentially selling himself into servitude to Lord Diavolo in exchange for Lilith’s life.  His change may occur fastest of anyone’s because if he has to do this, he will do it well.  And because as the oldest, he feels the need to be the strong one, the rock for the others.  Over time, that pride in doing what he had to do for them makes him become almost unbendable. Mammon-  The greed starts out in the little things, things he doesn’t even have any intention of selling.  He’s worried they’ll forget Lilith as time goes on, with everything else changing around them.  So he starts ‘collecting’ any mementos of the Celestial Realm his brothers have.  This is the start of them growing ever increasingly frustrated and eventually fed up with his thievery.  Every so often you do see evidence of his charity still coming through though.  

Leviathan-  He starts out small.  He’s always been the gentle one.  But after the fall, he notices more and more what others have that he doesn’t.  No, Mammon, Beel, and Asmo no longer have the lovely white wings they’d all had.  But they still have wings.  They can still fly if they want.  It upsets him, because these thoughts are awful.  He knows he should be happy for them that they didn’t lose that like he did.  His early disgust with himself is what drives him to lock himself away, finding solitary pursuits to keep him occupied.  He doesn’t envy his game and anime characters because they aren’t real.

Satan-  Of all of them, the one who doesn’t have to adjust.  He was born from Lucifer’s rage.  Wrath is all he’s ever known.  He was never an angel, the horns and tail are the only changes when they all leave the Celestial Realm.  He never felt like he belonged there, so it’s not a hardship for him.  Except for the extreme rage as he mourns Lilith. Asmodeus-  Out of all the boys, I really feel like Asmodeus has the hardest time adjusting.  He was called the “Jewel of the Heavens”  Now he can’t stand the sight of himself- an offset of the vanity his lust brings out in him.  Right after his horns sprouted, he tried to rip them off.  They regrew, but there are scars around the base of each.  You have to touch his wings to find them, but there are myriad tiny scars in the membranes of his wings, where his claws shredded them.  It takes a while before he can be convinced that he is gorgeous as he is, but once he does, he wraps that around himself like armor.  He doesn’t sing like he used to, before.  The fall changed his voice, he notices it when speaking but singing makes it more noticeable.  It’s still a nice enough voice, but it isn’t his.

Beelzebub-  Is the first to realize what’s happening to them.  It’s been shown several times that if he can quell the hunger, he’s a very insightful, thoughtful man.  After they fall, he notices early on that he’s growing hunger more often, and that the longer it’s left unfed, the more it builds, beyond what would ever be considered normal.  As time goes on, the amount of time between lessens until he can barely remember a time when his stomach wasn’t gnawing at itself, ravenous.  It’s hard to be altruistic and give what you don’t need to others when your body is constantly telling you you DO need all of it.

Belpehgor-  He’s just so bone weary tired.  That’s how it starts.  He’s been there before, he was a warrior, he’s always fought through the exhaustion, the pain.  But when he’s sleeping and healing after the fall?  He starts to dream of Lilith.  And upon waking, seeing the tattered remains of their family?  He’d rather sleep, let whatever dreams he has take him away from it.  Until he reaches a point where he no longer cares about any effort.  After all, his efforts in the Celestial Wars and Lucifer’s Rebellion didn’t matter; Lilith is gone.  What’s the point if it doesn’t matter?  The depression eventually fades, but the apathy remains.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belpehgor #headcanons #tw:self harm

[izanyas]

Sharing

Blue Exorcist fic commissioned by @salvainterra​! Set briefly after season 2 of the anime.

Rating: G Words: 2,600 No warnings.

Sharing

"What do you mean a strike?" Ryuuji asks.

The lady in front of him doesn't seem impressed in the least by his tone. It makes him feel faintly bad; she looks like she's had to deflect the same question for hours, and technically, it's not her fault the cafeteria is closed. His cheeks grow warm.

"I mean a strike," she replies curtly. "No one's going to be serving meals here until it's over."

He really wants to apologize now. His entire head feels like it's been shoved into an oven.

"But then," Shima says with acute despair, "how're we supposed to eat?"

She looks like she wants to reply, Figure it out, useless boy. Shima's shoulders drop so low he might as well be bowing under the weight of his disappointment.

The mess hall is awash with angry students. Ryuuji looks past the embarrassed twitch of Konekomaru's lips as he comforts Shima and to the crowds asking the other kitchen workers the same questions—what about food? Isn't this irresponsible? My parents pay a fortune for me to be here, the least this school can do is feed me right—

"Sorry for bothering you," he tells the woman roughly, face still burning. He doesn't know how to make himself nicer.

She just waves him off.

Ryuuji has to drag Shima behind himself as he leaves the building; he's given up on slouching unappealingly now, and has started to complain, loudly. There's a smarting retort about to leave Ryuuji's lips, a call for better attitude that feels hypocritical in light of how he reacted himself only a minute ago. He chews it down before it can be voiced.

The air outside is nothing short of a bite, achingly cold, a vivid cut on every inch of exposed skin. It's going to snow soon, and when it does, it won't be livable. They're alone on the steps; everyone else would rather sit unfed in the hall rather than brave the oncoming blizzard.

"It's s-so cold," Moriyama stammers behind them.

"Y-You're just weak," Kamiki protests, as if she isn't shaking from head to toe.

"I can't believe we can't eat," Shima exclaims then. His face is still slack with exaggerated despair. "A strike. What the hell? Don't they get paid enough?"

"They said it's because the kitchen equipment is too outdated and dangerous…"

"That's just an excuse for being lazy, Konekomaru."

"Shut up, Shima," Ryuuji and Kamiki snap at the same time.

She glares at him, just to be contradictory. Ryuuji has never claimed not to be contradictory either, so he glares right back.

He's more surprised than anything that he hasn't heard of the strike before actually getting to the cafeteria. Judging by the outrage of all the other students, including the regular ones, this is a wanted effect. The cooks may look tired, but there's a definite edge of smugness to their attitude.

He can't really blame them. No more than he can blame the others for being idiots about it. He had really looked forward to eating something warm after coming out of class, especially with how draining P.E. was.

Kirigakure chooses this moment to step out into the freezing cold, dressed exactly the same as she always is, the ridiculously frail scarf at her throat the only sign that she feels any cold. The way Shima stares at her now has more to do with the fact that she isn't folding herself into a ball trying to avoid frostbite than because she's so provocative.

"Heh," she purrs, looking over them. "Lost, kids?"

"We can't eat in the hall," Moriyama replies through her chattering teeth.

The look Kirigakure gives her might have been mistaken for sympathy by anyone who doesn't know her; as it is, only Moriyama seems to fall for it.

"Well, that's not my problem," she says airily. "I got a date with free food."

"As in an actual date?" Kamiki asks.

"Sure." Kirigakure rubs her hands together, blows on them as if to keep them warm—as if she isn't walking in shorts and a poor excuse for a tank top by below-zero temperature—there is no way she doesn't know a trick to keep herself warm, Ryuuji thinks faintly. No way at all. "He offered to pay for the food. I wasn't gonna say no."

"You aren't even interested in the guy?"

"Why are you going on a date in the middle of a school day?"

She ignores their questions and makes her way toward the next building over, where she'll no doubt be able to conveniently disappear from all her responsibilities.

"Great," Shima moans. "Now we don't have food, we're cold, and our only hot teacher probably won't even be here this afternoon."

Ryuuji kicks him in the shin.

"Where's Okumura?" Kamiki mumbles, ignoring the cry of indignation Shima gives behind her. She's looking around herself, frowning. "He should be here, if we're all gonna suffer."

"He never eats in the hall," Konekomaru tells her. "He always makes his own food, remember?"

Kamiki meets Ryuuji's eyes in the next second.

He doesn't need her fleeting smirk to know they are thinking the same thing.

-- 

Okumura insults them with simple, straightforward expletives. He groans, and glares at Ryuuji especially hard—though Ryuuji makes a point of trying not to antagonize him—and his demon cat is by his feet the entire time, hissing and snapping his twin tails.

He says yes, though. Moriyama's presence is very much to thank for that.

Ryuuji watches him prepare food with an itch under his skin; it takes him a long time to recognize it as the sort of unsettled he used to feel around his mother, when he knew she needed help—when she made sure to let him know—but couldn't figure out how to offer it. Okumura looks exhausted. Ryuuji's never seen him as anything less than perfectly healthy and bright, injuries non-withstanding. He wasn't even sure his demon body allowed for something as normal as fatigue. But Okumura's eyes are underlined by deep bruise-like circles. His shoulders are tense. His cat stays nestled against his neck the whole time he works, the color of its fur indistinguishable from that of Okumura's hair but very stark against the pallor of his nape.

Ryuuji looks away after that. He doesn't know if what he feels is irritation or concern, and he doesn't know why his face is still warm. The flush almost aches after how numb his skin has become on the way here.

Around the table, Konekomaru and Moriyama seem equally subdued. The way Shima and Kamiki spit at each other is more nervous than truly heated as well.

"There you go," Okumura mumbles a few minutes later, pushing a pan over the table.

It's nothing fancy, just fried rice and vegetables. It's still more delicious than any iteration of the dish Ryuuji has tried before. He tries to focus on that rather than anything else as he eats. Shima makes a show of moaning after each mouthful, practically melting into the table from the way the food warms him, the same way it warms Ryuuji.

He can't help but look at Okumura, though. That he looks becoming with Ryuuji's gifted hairclip pushing back his bangs is old news by now, and Ryuuji has enough experience with it not to let it make him blush as it once did, but the apron and slippers and flickering tail at his back make it worse somehow. Ryuuji can't pretend that his irritation is only due to the cold or the strike or the sores of training. He eats his food, the food Okumura made for them when they asked in spite of how obviously out of it he is right now, and his chest feels tight, pressurized, strained in two directions at once.

"You wanna pet him?" Okumura asks Koneko, catching his cat around the middle and setting it atop the table.

Koneko jumps in his seat; Ryuuji almost snorts—he knows he was looking at Okumura, not the cat curled around his neck—but Koneko doesn't say anything to deny it. He nods shakily. His first touch of the demon's fur is hesitant, reluctant, but better, Ryuuji thinks, than asking what he really wants to know.

At least Okumura seems to relax after that. He watches with a small smile as the cat rolls onto its back, practically ordering Konekomaru to rub its belly. Koneko obeys warily.

Ryuuji drags behind when the others start to leave. Their afternoon classes won't start for another twenty minutes, so he has enough time. Shima gives him a quick glance when he notices, but he's the only one who does. The girls are too entranced in their conversation to pay attention to much else; Konekomaru is looking at his hand like he can't believe he touched a demon and lived to tell the tale. Or maybe because the cat is just that soft.

Ryuuji wouldn't know. He's never touched it.

"Hey," he says gruffly once he and Okumura are alone.

Okumura startles badly—Ryuuji's quick reflexes are the only thing that prevent the pile of plates he's holding from spilling over and breaking onto the floor. He curses, catching them before they can fall and resting them atop the counter.

"What're you still doing here?" Okumura says under his breath. He's not looking at him, and the tips of his ears are red.

"Aren't ya coming to class?"

The unhappy look he gets is all the answer he needs.

"You can't skip," he says heatedly.

Okumura rolls his eyes at him. "You're such a nerd. Yukio's not here today, it's not like I'll get scolded if I—"

"I thought you were being fucking serious about this."

Okumura doesn't say anything.

"You came this morning," Ryuuji goes on. Okumura had been a little silent, something he couldn't help but notice because he can't help but notice everything about Okumura, but nothing like this strange, withdrawn version of him standing here now. He looks almost drowsy. Slow and hesitant in a way so uncharacteristic of him it makes every hair along Ryuuji's scalp tingle and rise.

Ryuuji takes a step forward. "What're you," he starts.

He can't quite finish. His face burns at the words he wants to ask—are you okay?—but Okumura sighs before he can even try to find the composure for them, leans against the counter and lets his shoulder drop, more of a tired slouch than a sign of relaxation.

His tail isn't flickering now. It hangs limply along his legs. Ryuuji's never felt more out of his depth.

"I don't feel good," Okumura mutters.

"Are you, uh, are you sick?"

He doesn't look sick. Okumura shakes his head. "Nah, I just—ugh, this stupid—you're gonna make fun of me," he accuses.

Ryuuji wouldn't. Not now. But Okumura sounds insecure and bothered, and, well. Ryuuji's not really given him reason to think otherwise. Just because he isn't serious in his animosity most of the time doesn't mean Okumura knows it.

Okumura's used to animosity toward him being dreadfully serious. Recent events have led Ryuuji to this realization, and it still feels a bit like a slap in the face now.

"What happened?" he asks in the silence that follows.

Okumura takes a long time to answer. His demon cat jumps on the counter to rub against his elbow, and at least this much is enough to make him smile fleetingly. Ryuuji reminds himself that it's ridiculous to feel jealous of a cat.

"I didn't sleep last night," he admits eventually. "Came here to take a nap and then I…"

He can't seem to find the words. His lips close so tightly they whiten for lack of blood, and his brow furrows in anger.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Ryuuji asks.

Once more, Okumura jumps. There's guilt on his face for the barest second, just before it's replaced with defensiveness, with something fragile that makes Ryuuji ache with sympathy. "So what if I did?" he replies sharply. "Are you too good for nightmares or something—"

"I'm not," Ryuuji replies.

He relaxes a bit. This isn't something he likes to talk about, but anything's better than seeing Okumura like this.

"I get nightmares often," he says, looking at the ceiling. He licks his lips quickly. "It's not—weak or anything. It's fine."

When he risks a glance in Okumura's direction again, the other is staring at him with wide eyes.

"You get nightmares?" he asks. He sounds completely bewildered.

Ryuuji's hands clench by his sides. "What, can't I?" he replies, flustered.

"No! I just—"

Okumura pauses. He looks like he doesn't know whether to ogle him or stare away; his fingers abort a move in Ryuuji's direction, something that makes the breath in Ryuuji's throat catch for a second; but then all he does is grin, widely enough that his eyes stretch at the corners and the couple hairs escaping from the clip shiver against his forehead, and Ryuuji finds himself unable to say anything at all.

"Sorry, man," Okumura laughs. The room around them seems so much brighter all of a sudden, like the low winter light has lifted to make way for the sun. "I just, it's reassuring, y'know? Even cool guys like you get nightmares."

"Yeah," Ryuuji replies numbly.

He can't look away from Okumura's smile at all.

"You're right," Okumura decides out loud. He makes a fist out of his hand in front of his chest, the other coming to rest around the cat, who purrs contentedly. "I better not skip and give you the chance to catch up with my awesomeness."

"You're the one who needs to catch up, dumbass."

Okumura just laughs again brightly.

Ryuuji stays in the kitchen while he runs upstairs to fetch his bag. The cat on the counter stares at him, and the curve of its mouth is in the shape of a mocking, smug smile. Ryuuji can't do anything but stare back and wonder if he's seeing things.

"Sorry for the wait," Okumura says once he comes back, bag slung over his shoulder. He doesn't wait for Ryuuji before slipping on his shoes and jumping outside—though he does recoil at the cold, giving Ryuuji the time to regain some sort of control over himself and join him.

"It's so cold," Okumura whines.

Ryuuji nods, still wordless. The wind bites at him, but his face is so warm he can barely feel it.

He makes himself say what he wants to as they walk toward their class, lowly, hesitantly. "D'you wanna talk about it?"

Talking about his nightmares has always helped him. It's unpleasant, it feels like admitting weakness no matter that no one has ever called him weak for it, be it his mother or his friends, but it helps. It puts them at a distance. He wouldn't mind being the sort of friend Okumura feels he can talk to like this—and this realization is another blow, one that smarts below his heart in a rush of off-tempo beats.

Okumura looks at him with his lips lifted gently. "No," he replies.

It doesn't feel like rejection at all.

Ryuuji looks at the ground as they walk, too-aware of Okumura right by his side. This isn't something they do. They are never alone like this with nothing pressing going on; silence has never stretched so quiet and easy between them, not as a weight, but as a comfort.

When they reach their classroom, Ryuuji almost regrets that they need to cut it short. He thinks he wouldn't mind skipping class, if it means sharing the silence with Okumura for a bit longer.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #okumura rin #suguro ryuuji #fic: sharing

[nothingbutroses]

Oh, Wonder

A faulty faucet leaked acid on a coffin; I'm still tripping, in an abysmal loss of innocence. You caught me slipping on a broken down pill- Oh, it's so comfy in this emptiness; Lie atop my mattress, it's just causal. There's no need to have a soul, you bastardess. Ask for kisses never. We don't have a witness, you swallowed our kids. And you know half of this is ignorance, the other half is blasphemous but we're such infants in this infinite galaxy's vision. So what we do is irrelevant to grand schemes. We've numbed out our feelings to the point where we don't have dreams we just fade to dust and fall to fuck but once we've cum we can't get up. Pack out my male ego with your gang of lusts; I'm still black and blue from this young nameless- unf, I told myself that I would refrain. It was a game to you, you clinically insane you left me dazed and stuck. As I tread million dollar woes through tainted prose. See, I'm still a star, that's just the way it goes, but this is dangerous. My woman does not deserve my distance. See, we talk when I'm inspired but more oft than not I'm wallowing in sins. And I treat these thoughts as a cleanse from my past, but she doesn't get this. I mean, she gets me laughing, but she wants my pain. What sense does that make? Guess it's obvious but there goes my male imbecilic programming that causes shifts in body temp when I'm assisting demonic bliss- Full of such past toxic lived out scenarios that adios is far too courteous for my voice to compose. I'm such a ghost. She knows this and she loves me still. Miss rose gonna miss rose, but she doesn't pose for daffodils or dandy lions even when young simba smells like boo boo due to boo boos from his past when he was outkast in the Carolinas. She's the finest example of what love can be. Merry me with panting mental views and glistened grills, only she instills such beauty but most times I'm ruining it all by falling into deep depressions, sunken into dark impressions of my ills. I know it hurts sometimes, but aren't you over it? You've found another life to live. Why are you still thinking about this shit?

#creative writing #spilled ink #art #the way life goes #lil uzi vert #oh wonder #landslide #poetry #poem #artists on tumblr #tumblr poetry #love #suicide #relationships #drugs #my life

[featherbrainedangel]

ramblings of a heartbroken lover

the worst feeling in life is when you’re watching love turn to hate, and the one you loved throw their life away.

if you listen close enough, you can hear the future you would have shared twinkle as it shatters on the ground around you - the remnants of the beautiful facade now laying in sharp jagged pieces around you. and how it is oh so easy to take one of those beautiful silver dreams and cover it in red to make the pain go away.

how easy it would be to let yourself fall into a lie you convinced yourselves of in a land of dreams where the love still warmed your hearts instead of the hatred burning them to ice.

cool daggers constantly being thrown at one another in an attempt to maim, yet when you take one to yourself the heart of the other melts enough to give you hope that maybe the one you loved is still in there.

yet when the threat is gone, so is he.

remaining is the face of the one you loved, yet he is a complete stranger. this person drinks, lies, and makes himself fly with powered substances. he works three jobs yet he asks you for money. he whispers sweet nothings to calm your riotous soul, and when it begins to steady, he stabs your heart with another betrayal and asks you why you’re mad.

he demands you don’t blame it on him, when it is he who is the source of your pain. it is he who breaks his word time and time again to the point you continue about your day when he says he has plans to come over to see you because you know you’ll get that message saying he’s not.

he’s fallen asleep. it’s too late. he’s suddenly busy.

the person person you could rely on for anything can now only be counted on to not be relied upon. he’s a shell of the wonderful man he once was.

together we were invincible.

now he feels that way after another line. or another pill. or another shot. or another pull.

i know he is using it as an escape. but more demons lurk in the waters he’s treading. he’s flying too high to see them. yet im so low there is nothing else i can see. i can see them chasing him, waiting for his high to drop so they can wrap their slimy tendrils around him and pull him down

down

down

until there is no air to breathe

until there is nothing but darkness

where the only light comes from the glowing white powder he’s about to inhale into his burnt lungs. where the last high wasn’t enough, so he takes more. where his dog goes unfed, and his wallet is bled, and there is no one by his side because chasing that high is the only thing on his mind.

yet

for some reason

as my demons are destroying my very essence, i still battle his. i fight them off despite how much im wounded. they pick and prod and stick and stab and i still fight. because no matter how much i loathe that man that’s chasing his next high, i know the man i fell in love with is in there somewhere.

and i just want him back

#because this is my fucking life right now #i lost the man i loved because he cant stop lying and drinking and doing drugs #i lost my fucking soulmate