"substitutions are never fully accounted for"
and just like that he turned around and walked away. if he would have
looked back he would have seen the contorted look upon my face, the
cold stillness left behind. but he didn't turn around, didn't see,
doesn't know. i stood there, upon the mass of loneliness, only
wondering what this meant [what he meant].
after what felt like hours i began to walk towards a stream of
thoughts, unaware of whose they were. my body began to feel weightless
and unattached, unreal. the ink in my body sank deeper and deeper and
all i could think about was the hunger for more needles, more ink and
more color for the skin i could no longer feel. i started reminiscing
all the vibrations created by every punture.
what insanity, everyone must think. selfish girl, locked within her
own thoughts. what mind games she plays over herself.
"but substitutions are never fully accounted for" i will say as i
smile and get up. i turn around and begin to walk away as the sun sets
and the waves begin to crash. everyone that was there while the sun
was at a high remained sitting, watching me pass on through. eyebrows
raised, some mouths dropped.
i look back at their stillness and looks of wonder and i whisper,
"tell them my heart has been shot down, but it's still beating..."
