Thou Art Anathema

I dreamt I was drunk and stumbling across stones maybe I had not dreamt at all the man was standing there on the edge he came closer and peeled layers of my skin with a blade like the rye bread I ran through the slicer he ate them salty on his tongue fragmented on his teeth he swallowed, I laughed, then ran, bleeding, blood across stones that were once white as sand before I bled over them Where is she Where is she I scratched my arms my throat my eyes out until the tears were gone and I stood like a skeleton alone afraid on the shore where the moon went down and a spider crawled out of my mouth and spun a web made from the silk of my demons