making the sight odious.

Loathe crawls into me

as I try to stay still.

Their ruptured laughter floods the room,

shaking the ground like a hunting hound.

Voices echo through my skull,

violating my air,

my mind,

my life.

I see joy stitched into their smiles —

each stitch pulling my life apart.

I crave for silence in their clamour,

to drain the joy out of their voice, to make them taste how foolish they sound

Delight ignites as I return the blow

choking on their venom,

unravelling their strings that holds them

I want to stay

as they lay —

in a silent room,

their faces hollow,

recognising the grave they dig for themselves.

_hemyx0_7