the devil was inside of me.

it’s 3 am and i’m laying in my own bed for the first time in months. the candle beside me flickers unevenly and the hum from the ceiling fan above is deafening if i pay too much attention. the world is silent but this space around me is so damn loud.

i showered twice today, thinking the grime would wash off. once with steam rolling off my back, a deserving pain. the other so cold, it made me lose balance for a moment, then shocked me back into real time. neither have helped. unless you can pop holes into me like a steamed-bag meal, there isn’t a right way to expel this filth i have bottling up.

last night i said the devil was inside of me. as your body laid next to mine, i swore in that moment heaven and hell were real and this was all one big metaphor. you were the apple, we were the snake and i was not once opposed, which terrifies me. you reminded me that it wasn’t true because god wasn’t real.

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