deadlake

For once I see a silence past the water. It reflects its ugly barren face onto the lake. It's putrified and bloody. The lake, as such, is void of life. Void of all the frogs and insects and weird, ugly fish. The sky is dead. I wish it'd cry for me but it too just seems to be heavy. I fucking hate those trees. I don't care what I have on, how much I'm bleeding, the cries from outside or whatever. My mind feels blurry though specifically absent.

This lake's become a burial site. I stuffed hundreds of dead little rodents here now, and a meaningless rock for each.

once in a while I feel my pulse sting me like an embarassing photo. My mother had a mechnical heart. My heart, like my fathers, is completely normal. There's nothing wrong with it, its very healthy, its page is blank.

This whole time I haven't seen a single ripple, not a bubble, not a little brush from the wind. Dead. I think to my father for once; who is he? A killer, like me, though distanced and delusional thinking I'd be like him. I buried the tooth, I've buried hundreds. None of them mean a thing, they're all teeth.