Facade.

Facade
Current mood: angsty

Against the prickly cotton of my shirt, the sun burns my flesh. My eyes sting and my breath is sour from the dirt that surrounds this place. Red dirt. I have nothing to gain by being here, but I don't care. I'd rather die alone in this desolate existance than in a room full of empty souls. I could lie here and await the desperate hawks circling above to come and pick at my fried brains or I could walk on, through the valley of the shadow of death and meet my maker face to face. I weigh my options and opt to walk on. Past the mine feilds, through the desert of despair. I lick my cracked, sunburned lips and a sticky breeze finds me with a tongue full of earth, brought upon by the devil himself. I find myself at a crossroad with no street signs. That's what happens in hell, there are no signs anywhere because you don't exist. I turn left and stagger on in the blistering heat. Sweat drips from my pours and down the middle of my breasts pooling in the front of my bra. I've never been closer to death and for the most part, I don't really care. I'm not afraid. I'm not bitter. In fact I feel nothing as I walk on into the utterly deceiving facade called life.