Porcelain
Thin, he was so very thin. He screamed disease. Nails chewed to the raw flesh that bled so easily. Eyes alert to imaginary surroundings. Hair, wild and unkempt. Skin, like porcelain. Blue veins and outline of bones. Legs, shaking, struggling to hold up his frail frame. Fingers slowly moving to his lips chewing away more raw skin. Constant mumbling through his teeth. So off, so diseased. Delicate. Blood forming on the tips of his torn fingers. Raw flesh. Crazy. Insane. Soft. Light-hearted.
His beautiful laugh comes through all the mumbling. His lips thin and chapped. Porcelain. He laughs and it rings through the air, lingering. And I share another joke.
And, oh, what a joke this is. He does not recognize me.
This was a mistake.
Shitty little duwop. Avoiding all responsibilities at the moment. And I love the idea of Tweek being sick, physically and mentally. And Craig just sad because he's losing his friend. Sad stories make me happy.