Lying on the grass, feeling the sorrowndings, allowing to face the fear, trimbling of panic. On the top of the roof, hundred million little stones falling down, making my brain stun with the irregular noise, wondering if I was imagining things: the cry of a baby, the falling from a tree, pictures that make no sense at all, writing down notes, over and over again. Spreading my madness to my loved ones. Wanting/waiting to kill/love them. Biting my neck and swallowing my blood.
