It’s the loneliness of early morning, the empty hours suspended in what feels like days.
That is when it will come creeping back, crawling at the very base of your spine.
The raw nerve feeling, the reminder that will always be there, whether you feel it constricting or not.
It’s the dull ache, the dull ache that can turn into the cruel twist, like that of a meat grinder, at any moment.
It will turn you into a breaker of hearts, a killer draped in flesh.
It will turn you into a walking ghost, a murderer drenched in pain.
The consequence of your isolation is deafening.
© Copyright September 2016/October 2016