Work Text:
I crave the warmth.
The putrid smell.
The awful knowledge that
one of the ways to ‘fix’ myself,
is to fuck myself over.
Dig, dig, dig.
Dig your shitty-ass grave.
Dig, dig, dig.
I crave the warmth.
The crimson elixir.
The awful knowledge that
one of the ways to ‘fix’ myself,
is to be threatened.
Threatened to be sent in.
Dig, dig, dig.
Dig your shitty-ass grave.
Dig, dig, dig.
Dig into the bottle.
Dig into the flask.
Dig into the cup.
Dig into the glass.
Dig into your arms.
Dig into your thighs.
Dig into your stomach.
Dig into your chest.
Dig, dig, dig.
Dig you shitty-ass grave.
Dig, dig, dig.
I know you’ll end up digging.
Digging more and more.
Your garden is just recovering.
Why do you yearn to dig?
You foolish fucker!
Do it.
I dare you.
Dig, dig, dig.
Dig your shitty-ass grave.
Dig, dig, dig.