i lived better when i was ignorant of the sun,
He has come apart at the seams.
The shadows that rose and swallowed the sun have wormed their way beneath his eyelids now, flooding his thoughts black. Stitches in his skin are fraying, and as they pop and burst the blood in his veins comes creeping out, groping for the light.
Finn drowns in it. He screams. Sometimes he calls for his mother, but she never comes.
How can she, when she is naught but a broken rag at the bottom of the Falling, flayed flesh never recovered, bones licked clean by the tides.
All of this he might have told Tobi. None of this he remembers.
When he next comes to (and how many times does that make it now?) his sheets are soaked with sweat. There's a tremor in his spine that feels so violent he's afraid he might vomit up his skeleton if he isn't careful, and with bloodshot and stormy eyes, he seeks out something familiar. "I can't do this," he tells no one, his throat raw. "Please - I don't want to do this any more."
The shadows that rose and swallowed the sun have wormed their way beneath his eyelids now, flooding his thoughts black. Stitches in his skin are fraying, and as they pop and burst the blood in his veins comes creeping out, groping for the light.
Finn drowns in it. He screams. Sometimes he calls for his mother, but she never comes.
How can she, when she is naught but a broken rag at the bottom of the Falling, flayed flesh never recovered, bones licked clean by the tides.
All of this he might have told Tobi. None of this he remembers.
When he next comes to (and how many times does that make it now?) his sheets are soaked with sweat. There's a tremor in his spine that feels so violent he's afraid he might vomit up his skeleton if he isn't careful, and with bloodshot and stormy eyes, he seeks out something familiar. "I can't do this," he tells no one, his throat raw. "Please - I don't want to do this any more."
tucked away in your chest
FINN
