haem

Didactic vision, a curse; my eyes crystallise each moment into glass panes. Electricity runs through its shattered lines, light glares against the ceiling, I lose focus. Blood only flows warm when it breaks through skin; shards grinding against smooth flesh scraping patterns into my innards. There I’ll lie, entrails feigning adornments around my torso, they shine like gold, smell like rust. I hope you taste haem every time you swallow.