TWs: Food, vomit, blood/wounds, choking
"On losing interest in passions"
I choke on feathers, they clog my throat
I'm allergic to cookies, covered in mould
The book pages cut my fingers, blood spurting
The television screen is broken and glitched, static only
All my video game controllers are busted to hell
Every food I eat tastes bitter and sour like vomit
I press the pencil to the page but nothing comes out
It's all gone away
The joy is lost
For little reason
It's nobody's fault but my own
That spark
is gone
replaced with anxiety,
and hatred,
and disgust,
and
. . . . . . . nothing