Tar

sludge, sucking at my feet bones. I ossify here in my bed. I become a limp mass of flesh, inflating and deflating with tired breaths. Across the room there sits a goldenrod bell jar. My eyes fix upon the silver lid. Everything very slowly fades away. A familiar scent lingers on the blanket beneath me… It smells like July.

The heart is wicked and maddening. 

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