What freaking remote location did they send him to?
Spotting a television he fumbled through the nightstand for the remote.
“Where the hell am I? Where’s the remote”? He demanded kicking his roommates bed.
“Rehab, and it’s mine”.
A MESH OF PIXILLATED FLESH
she won the“Stevens-Johnson Syndrome” lottery.
Burned from inside out.
Running fingers over
a Crazed, fleshy mess.
Braille of a deadly condition.
Feeling burning words,
answers coded in fire.
Then again her brain was burning.