Smothering vowels.

Put on the red light.

I disown myself, I really do.

I disown you.

Like a fork. Like a pain.

I don't know your pronouns, you don't know mine

and you won't.

Like Ian Curtis, dying, singing, I don't mind. I care. I like him.

My back laden with miseries.

Your noises, their noises, smashing, destroying all my melodies,

or those things I thought they were.

Now I don't need nothing anymore. I don't feel nothing anymore.

I don't lie but... actually I don't want them to know the truth, my truth.

The severe blow has become liquid,

and it runs trough my veins.

My brain is throbbing with sounds I knew since I was seven.

Last night I drowned in the lake of their prejudice,

like two hundred witches did time ago.

Rotten mind. Rotten hair.

I just wanted to vanish.

I was ashamed.

Spotless behaviour.

I left her in the lurch and I'll never forgive myself for that.