00:56 and this is what it is

And then. Then it des­cends.
A silent scream. Suck­ing in air.
Hand clutch­ing arm. Hand clutch­ing arm.
The sew­er of thought. The well of what.
Not know­ing where I am. Though I’m here.
The mind is empty. Yet burst­ing with.
This isn’t what I would call a life.
Live inside me. You wouldn’t.
You wouldn’t call it a life either.
I’ve lost my bear­ings.
Slackened my fin­ger­nail grip.

If you’re the mur­der­er. If it’s you.
Please come for me tonight. Do your worst.
The door is unlocked. I’ve invited you.
Remove me. Delete me. Erase me.

I’m ready. I have been for a while.
Don’t ask me if I can do this any­more.
Because you know the answer. You.
You just don’t want to hear it.

The door is open. Come and end me.
I don’t have the energy to beg.
Though I will if you kick me.
I will if you hit me hard enough.
I will if you gouge out my eyes.
I will if you slice out my heart.
I will if you cut my throat.
I will if you evis­cer­ate me.
I’ll beg. Then I’ll beg.
I’ll beg you to fin­ish me.


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