I call it: Can You Feel It? The Mustard?
I grasp at the air in front of me;;;;;
but to no avail
the blood runs from my eyes to my knees
and the cold snow is now red
in my ear i hear whispers of death that sound like the noise...
the noise that is sounded when you squeeze a freshly opened bottle of mustard
it sounds as though it is calling my name
"leaaaaaahhhhhh............................... leahhhhhhh";;;;;
AND THEN
BLOOD
BLOOD
BLOOD
BLOOD
PAIN
PAIN
PAIN
PAIN
DEATH BLOOD GORE PAIN ZOMBIES FLESH FLESH BURNING IN THE SUN
Silence
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But I don't want to give my journal a title.
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