Ain’t No Grave.

I don’t believe in God, or Jesus, Angels or Saints or even the Devil and his Demons.

People are the true light and dark/good and evil. We visit all manner of heaven and hell upon each other, before we inflict our damage on our children. I never thrust and squirted offspring into anyone I loved, so I’ve been ‘told’ to stfu on the subject of progeny. After all, if you’ve never created a human what the fuck should you know right?

Wrong.

I had better parental instinct than the last ‘mother’ I swam inside.

As I navigate the fucking hell, that is the aftermath of narcissistic abuse, I find a path through the watery haze of tears, until every vein and artery beneath my muscles writhe like snakes trying to eat themselves…

I realise that’s really me, eating my old self; shedding that crawling skin on a belly I’ve used to get around so long. Crushed under the gravity of others’ needs, wants, and expectations.

No more.

Once the dermis sloughs off, like something wet birthing from an overstretched cunt, the nails will elongate.

Enough to ensure there ain’t no grave I dug, in caring for others to the detriment of self, will hold my body down…

2 thoughts on “Ain’t No Grave.

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