Nicholena Moon

I’m always afraid that I’ll die terribly. It’s really dramatic, I know. But imagine me, covered in oozing lesions. In bulbous tumors. Picture me with mottled skin and no hair. Me, with skin cancer. With mouth cancer. With parasites. Imagine me trapped inside my own traitorous, disintegrating body. I do. But who knows. I’ll probably just die banally, staring at a computer screen.