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“We choke on the ashes of our denial, clutching at the edges of recklessness as if it could make us immortal. We choose the ruinous path, not out of defiance, but desperation. To feel the sting of fire as it burns down our throats, to mistake the rush of adrenaline for vitality, to pretend that we are alive. Fear is a sweet poison. It courses through us like borrowed electricity, igniting what little remains of our spirit. It makes us feel invincible, young, whole, until it doesn’t.” — Nyx Thorn
We choke on the ashes of our denial,
clutching at the edges of recklessness
as if it could make us immortal.
We choose the ruinous path,
not out of defiance,
but desperation.
To feel the sting of fire
as it burns down our throats,
to mistake the rush of adrenaline
for vitality,
to pretend that we are alive.
Fear is a sweet poison.
It courses through us
like borrowed electricity,
igniting what little remains
of our spirit.
It makes us feel invincible,
young, whole, until it doesn’t.