It was the smell that hit me,

Woke her, uncoiled her tail

Institutional food, mash, hotdogs


She tracked her way back up my throat with

A pickaxe

Blood crusted

Dragging herself over the back of my tongue,

My tastebuds were glass

No, she whispered

You don't need


Don't deserve


You are revolting

You are nothing

You are –

She seethes, boiling water thrown on a pile of snow,

The snow we used to build men out


Back when we were fine, before she moved in and my best friend was

My sister

"Josephine? His voice asked

I looked up