I'm spinning, I'm spiraling. And I hope you know I don't need saccharine words to soften anything. I'll take my spirals as easy as they come and quietly embrace the suffocation, and addiction one gets from loving what they cannot have.
I'm picking out knives. I hope it matches your day, and I hope it glides its sharp right along your throat. Gently at first, until you are spiraling along with me. Flesh, cut 1, cut 2, your parts are my parts now.