07 August | The Dopamine Hit · 7 of 11
It was the cause cosplaying as the curewhetted with devotion, corruption crept out my lips.Toxins spread as the antidote bled—my twisted love surged from the sickness in my headand splintered breath gasped between sutured scarswhilst he opened my heart. Was the open-heart surgerythat failed the climax of my life?It was the littlest death, it was my demise—I never meant to die but it felt so divine.