I hear the ticking of the clock as life passes me by.My screen is practically embedded in my dead dry eyes.I’m scrolling, I’m scrolling, bored out of my mind. Constant sharp pain courses through my body.Sharp aches clawing at me, tearing me up insideI wish I had a job, a salary,But health isn’t something money can buy. So I hum to myself to the beat of my heart I reprimand myself because surely...

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I cut into the pomegranatewith gentle precision because this is howI want it done to me.I roll my fingertips over the clusters of seedsand carefully considerhow I will remove them,leaving nothing behind,because this is how I want it done to me. I remove each seed one by one,with diligence,wriggling them loosefrom the spongy white flesh,not blinking, not speakinguntil the cavity of the fruithas ...