Cipher

Loneliness is a knitting needle on my chest, pointing straight down. It couldn't hurt me on its own, but it waits, it waits for assistance, the thrust of his palm. It never needs to linger long.

I love holding things that could kill me, because as long as I'm touching them I am untouchable. As long as I have arms to hold them.

It's probably true that every person is an algorithm or a mixed bag of equations. But I can't handle that. Inevitably, I will see all those numbers rushing together, blackening the air, choking me every time I try to inhale.

I stared at the sun and saw nothing for days. The apocalypse was worth my blindness.

People run from things that spin webs, even if we've got no venom left, even if that's all we know how to do. Sanctimonious, they call us black widows and enact senseless slaughter under the guise of self-preservation.

Despite being desperate for singularity, I am forever a part of the plural. He does not notice me.

She told me that water flows faster when you decrease the pressure. I must be living backwards.