tongue of the serpent ➵ a.b.

Chapter 25: Limbo

It's funny how tears can be signals. Tears can be signals for pain, sadness, doubt, and the raping of minds.

It's funny how self-harm scars can be signals. Signals for torture, regret, insanity, and the raping of bodies.

No one ever tells you the deepness of their scars. No one ever tells you how salty their tears were on the night that their father made that mistake.

Isn't it funny how self-harm is a hard way of putting that your mind is so cluttered - full of ancient probabilities that never seem to follow through - that you resort to transferring mental pain into physical. And the only thing you have to hurt is your own body. You place the scars to remind you not to think of the reasons you placed the blade on the skin.

When there are forest fires erupting from my wrist, the smoke signals send out the most beautiful things I've ever seen...

It is time for us to reclaim our bodies.

Isn't it funny how crying is a simple way of putting that your mind is so saddened - full of childhood fantasies and dreams that never broke the barrier of your tongue - that you resort to transferring mental pain into physical. And the only thing you can do is stain your favorite tee-shirt. You let your tears run to remember the feeling as to why the prisms of liquid ran from your pupils.

The rainbows emitting from the prisms that flow from my eyes fail to supply me with eternal joy. The light shining onto my skin at the realization of a mental weight lifted is the most beautiful thing I've ever felt...

It is time for us to reclaim our homes.

When my mother walked in on me that day, tearing at my skin, I screamed. I screamed for her to go - let me be.

Her reaction to the blood is to form pools of silence. Her reaction to the skin breaking is to form pools of liquid in her swollen eyes.

Her reaction was to leave me alone in the pink room. Her reaction was to believe it with all her might, that the alien she just saw harming her own skin wasn't her daughter.

It was just a mythical creature. Yes, that was it! The creature wasn't a part of me. She did not come to the world through my body, but instead, a force.

My mother then never took one step into my room again.

It's funny how when the wind blows, you can hear its whistle inside your eardrum.

It's funny how when your lover decides to lullaby you to sleep, your ear becomes a safe haven. The only door leading outwards.

It was funny the way Andy looked at me with blindness. When I let my insides spill onto the off-white carpet, his eyes became attached. They become encased and they would judge each and every secret that flowed out with my intestines.

The secrets of my father, brother, mother, blades, therapy visits. The day I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The day Cadell stopped loving me...The day that will live on through my disease.

I told him of my skills with the blade. The very delicate break of skin and the taste of my own blood. The imaging that Andy himself was there in order to stop me from going deeper and deeper...I told him about the pink room...

I told Andy the secrets of the very particles in his being. The walls I talked to and how the pink would push forward the black shadows.

I told him of the night my father touched me...

"All I ever wanted was you," I whispered as I finished. "And now all I want is for us to be perfect."

Andy's face turns into a nightmare. There's flashes of extreme agony. "Lethia, I - "