Master of Salt & Bones

by Keri Lake

Media vita in morte sumus (In the midst of life, we are in death)

Turns out, the Devil of Bonesalt really is an asshole.

I find comfort in darkness. The only place they can’t see me. In the light, I’m bare, naked, exposed, but here, nothing can touch me. I’m invisible. A silent observer.

“Turns out, you were right, Franco. I am fucking crazy.”

“Why do we bother to breathe, when we know we’re going to die?”

i felt that one

“When you cut yourself with a blade, there’s an open wound, and blood and pain, but the pain comes to an end and the wound seals to a scar. So you cut yourself again and again, because you forget how much it hurt the first time. The heart is a different animal. A caged, lonely scavenger that feeds on its own wounds. Its scars never heal, because you can’t mend the very thing it needs to survive. So the wound continues to fester, until what’s left of the organ is eventually consumed by its own self-mutilation.”