Sleeping Limbs

Peter wanted to explain what was going on in his head. He really wanted to tell you who he was. But he couldn't... Simply because there really wasn't anything going through his head, and he really wasn't anybody. When he felt upset, or angry, or even embarrassed, he would just sit in silence, he'll make you feel cold and alone, even when he's sitting by your side. He doesn't do this because he wants to, but because he is so deep inside his head, he will burrow himself in there, and simply observe, look at his surroundings and wonder what THOSE people were doing, what were THEY seeing, hearing, feeling, or smelling. He escaped his own body and dreamed of the souls, he would look into your eyes and transmit his fury in the form of silence.. It could scare an army away, the blank look Peter gave. It could tell you the answer to every single question you have at the present moment, but if he ever spoke, you would just think he's a fool. Actions are louder then words, but words can serve as a checkpoint, a phrase to apply the moment to. Peter was strong mentally and spiritually, if you ignored him, Peter could ignore you twice as better, he could forget who you were in a matter of seconds, but, if you regretted the action, he regretted it tenfold. "Rip my heart out and stomp it to pieces, flatten it out and let it dry on the pavement under the blazing, infernal star. But if you're going to do it, do it right, crush it to dust, and sell it for a dime. Don't ever come back, cause if you do, then I will too, and we both fucking know that there's no use. No fucking use. No god damn use to it, no fucking use at all. There's better men, much more attractive, funnier, with more money, more time, and an actual life. I'm just a sick child, laying in a hospital bed, waiting for death. There's no use in trying, you'll never fucking save me..."