Deformed faces, staring at you, staring through their anxious breaths filling their hollow chests and you stare back at them equally defiant, shamelessly so. Wordless and silent, those eyes talk to you and what do you do? //full poem in caption// Call it one last wish, call it the burning slits through which the truth talks to your bared soul. Call it the evening prayer, call it the languish of that one last crest fallen goodbye. You wave at the receding row after row of trees, you don't know names of and you hope they'll take you back to where you left off. Deformed faces, staring at you, staring through their anxious breaths filling their hollow chests and you stare back at them equally defiant, shamelessly so. Wordless and silent, those eyes talk to you and what do you do? You wait with bated breath for those hungry eyes to seek you out and for those empty stomachs to growl at you so that you can scream how obnoxious the world is as a place. You watch your prey, silent and stealthily steal away into dead ends so that you can corner those empty, void eyes and watch as blood oozes out from slits you carve on their skin. The skin that shines with the sweat of the month, you took your mask off of that shameless face of yours.
