well I guess I'm feeling wordy....

is it bad that I get a sick satisfaction from these little red lines adorning my arm?

is it bad that I see them and all I want to do is make them multiply?

they criss-cross and overlap in labyrinthine patterns over skin that used to be the color of cream.  now it's just the color of rage.  anger.

a fury that begs to be unleashed and stain the world crimson.

but at the same time wishes to remain hidden.

contradiction rules my kingdom.

i wear no crown.

time has passed

things were better and now they are exponentially worse.

I'm not sure how to feel about this.

I feel like I'm drowning.

ottoke?