Hazy skies filled sight, dropped splattered painted walls red filled what he heard, none of this makes sense. Love, lost? Lust? Listless. Lost. Love? Can't remember. Everything is upside-down. No, I am, ankle, red. All I see is red. Out of me, out of he. Out his eyes… Yellow? Red. Can't remember. Wait, I understand Russian, no that's not. Alternatian.
Where'd my shirt go? Underneath where it had been rest holes shown through. So much darkness. Disgust, filth fill my holes. I feel my cries, anguish yet no tears. My love? Lost? My love is lost? This is disgusting.
He swats at me again. My chest pierced. There is no red. I see no colors. Only the dark holes atop my skin, showing my hollowed vessel. I cry again, I can feel the pain. I can see it, but I can't feel. I feel it.
Again. Again. Again. Again. It hurts, so so much. But I can't move. My ankle is broken. I remember it's been broken for so long. But I don't remember how. Red, my chest, I know it's wet, but I can't perceive it's sensation. Lust. He wants my heart. He wants my heart for practice. Practicing baseball. No. Human practice. Love, lost. Listless reasons. Lust.
It's so light out, I can't see. All I see is Dad. No that's not him, my ribs collapsed. My holes are crying, weeping roly-polies and caterpillars and filthy disgusting vermin. I can feel them entering one point, exiting another. Oh god, this is horrifying.
My distraction is over with. He has my glasses? I can only see the color red. I can only see him. His sickle. My heart. He has my heart. He smears my heart into the ground. I can feel it. I can feel the dirt entering the vital cavities inside my weakening organ. I can sense so well, so vivid, his anger, my confusion, his foot pressing against me. No, not me, no, my thigh. No my heart. Sound is non-existent, only the sound of goat laughing. They watch as I crumble apart, so hungry, so alone. My migraine grows worse. My teeth are missing, everything is missing. His sickle inside my diaphragm, digging toward bone marrow. Digging toward my childhood. The bugs make their way into the gum which my teeth used to remain, nesting, harvesting the gels of my eye to feed their young. Reproducing in the empty sockets of my mouth. I can feel my face stretching, attempting to hold in the larva. Until a gaping hole bursts in my cheek, exposing my ceramics project, that's due next week. No wait, that's due tomorrow. I can't turn it in without my intestines yanked out my sickle, used to weave my ceramics, used to weave my ceramics, used to, to, to , u, t, ce, r, amics, I Smell You. I feel my ankle continuously snap into pieces, then fix itself once more. I see one scene on a loop, of Potts reaching into my chest. No, that's Sickle. No, that's Karkat. I'm Karkat. I destroy myself.
John awoke in tears.