i think it’s back
my problem where i don’t sleep and all i think about are ghosts and death and what my body would feel like under six feet of brown earth, pressing against the box they’ve buried me in. brown earth in competition with nothing but the worms and beetles itching to get in and at my flesh.
the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout.
i am creepy.
