11
My soul lay trapped. Trapped in a body that wouldn’t move. Trapped beneath blackened fingers of gnarled bark. Trapped by the winds battering my belly and stoning my muscles into a frigid state of convulsion. Trapped by dark and twisted shadows and shapes and splotches of light that haunted my space.
Against my sternum, my heart bang-bang-banged an erratic beat of panic of fear of discomfort, of wishing someone would haul out my insides and fit me with a new set that didn’t hurt didn’t hurt didn’t hurt so f*****g much.
Soggy moisture glued my face to whatever ground I lay against. Soggy moisture that stank and reeked and burnt my sinuses until my eyes dripped with acid that smudged everything, the world, anything around me that came into view.
Acrid tar pasted my teeth together in a
