I like to travel, read, write, dance and pretend. At the moment I am suffering an insufferable phase of self-aggrandizement, premature maturity and lack of wit.
If you think you can help me out of this funk, write me at idaman.z@gmail.com
Shiver inducing contractions between lulls of dull throbbing
I am never having children, not with this kind of pain, not with this low a threshold.
I’m a trembling ball of Ache, curled up on a chair, slumped against the desk, typing with my shivering fingers as the beast eats at my womb. I would scream had I the strength but I don’t.
My feet are icy, the nails blue from this wretched gnawing. God I hate you.
Stop stop stop.
Fuck I hate this.
I hate the beads of sweat on my upper lip bearing testament to my fucking womanhood. I hate you fucking uterus fuck it stop.
I hate that I have to put up with drugs to deal with this pain, and I hate that I would die for a few hours of eternity as my body fights the drug fights the pain.
Shoot me, take it out, please for the love of sanity, make it stop.
