bite down

i take a hit, and something takes a bite of me, feeling like it's crawling inside of me. teeth like fire, gnawing through bone, through memory, through the last clean part of myself. or what i thought was clean. i was whole once, i think. before the night seeped in, cracking open my ribs to let its hunger in. i was the one letting it in, i think. i'm not sure, i'm not sure about anything anymore. now i dissolve, slow and steady, each inhale, injection, or a feast for my ruin, each exhale surrendering pieces of who i was.

in the dark, fragments of that past self drift like echoes, faded laughter, broken dreams, devoured in silence. i was the one devouring it, i think. i'm not sure. the relentless bite deepens its hold, tearing at the seams of said identity, as i become both predator and prey in this never ending, self-devouring dance. shadows stretch long in abandoned rooms, where every hit carves a new deep scars, and every moment bleeds into the next like the slow drip of a poisoned clock.

i guess i let the night in. inviting the hunger that consumes all, all of me, transforming me into a canvas of scars and fractured, unrecognizable truths or lies. how would i know? it's beyond recognizable. with each burning, spiky hit, i come closer to a final dissolution; a raw, painful erasure of the person i was meant to be. all in favor for the sweetest, prettiest daughter in the whole wide world. 

yet, in the ruins of shattered self, there flickers a defiant spark; a twisted promise that even in this decaying body, something real, something fierce, still burns. maybe. that's what i think. i'm not so sure anymore. but keep on biting down, whoever you are, whatever you are. for in the depths of this devouring feast, the fragments of our broken souls might just forge a brutal kind of rebirth.