of a love unkempt
in my own rotting hands

hands, my hands.
look at my hands.
you can see the bone showing now. see my hands. couldn’t you see my hands?
the hands that tear,

the hands that have torn.

now there are hollow husks laid so gently, so violently, in the shape of a snake. it follows me. it bites at my ankles and quenches its thirst on each tear it wrings out of me. fuck you, toothy bastard. to think i could ever climb a mountain with anyone by my side.

and so i huddle back into the place my mother showed me. an ink black sky is all i see tonight. the moon looks at me like mother did. like i wanted mother to look at me, at least.

fuck this place, and fuck you too. if you still think of me, i beg you to drown. what would you want to remember? leave me be!

, so said the first echo