"And Run (Eight Days Left)"

A calmness washes over the world we live in as a steady pace of waves slush into the snow making steam that becomes transparent against the white of the tub.

To everyone it seems red and open, festering and blistering over again until finally that same calmness drains the wound so much harder than it was to fill it up.

Though to those who are like us it is blue and closed, held in so thickly and fat, tar build up under a thin layer of skin most wouldn't dare notice but the calmness slices it apart so easily it's a sigh of relief.

As today leans forward our palms ache with sweat that stings two X's to score down to the day our world will end, a countdown to some's devastation, a marking to our release.

When the clocks strikes midnight another score will be added rendering the shell we've been hiding in useless and ready to be dropped off the table soon enough, cracks already quivering to be poked and prodded.

They, everyone, think that fitting loose bandages and bandaids might stop the trembling that vibrates all the fluid but instead it makes it all wet and sticky.

We know that the only way to stop all that fizzing is to split it up so all that foggy blue paint can pour out with ease and a final sigh or smile.

We have given ourselves ten days to live and two of them have already gone by at a slurring motion which gives us time to really take in all the world we've been too sad to notice.

Everyone will be oblivous as it buils up to the last X, anxious and nervous.

This thing that so filled with blue as we see it, or red when they hardly notice.

Everyone calls this "suicide".

We call this "escape".

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