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A weekend! This is what I call a weekend. 3 days to get work done around the house, go shopping, get a nice relaxing massage and imagine Sunday is far, far away. I wish Sunday only existed in pulp novels..... too bad its real. But I guess I should be thankful to Monday, for without it, I wouldn't be as grateful to my weekends.

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Ink upon the darkness makes no marks at all. Scrabbling about in the shadows nails, bleeding, fall. Scratching at the doors to my own damnation, I call. Names of old, names forgotten, slithering, from my tongue, they fall. Fat, obese, they move upon the trails I've left behind. I beg them to stop, do not witness my thoughts, my crimes. But they continue, no heed paid at all. Those that came  from the shadows eat me, my past.  They eat it all. Slick with anxiety, I continue, appalled. Eaten, my fingers to the bone, I watch,  enraptured, enthralled. This blood that erupts  from my throat, leaves no marks,  not even silence, upon these walls.
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