Here's something I wrote about Greifstricken in like thrity minutes.
Dark, vile, bubbling up
Pulling and pulling and pulling
It slowly claws at his skin
Has he even noticed?
It's currently three thrity-four am
The rooms dark, pitch black
The only light being his face
Staring endlessly into nothing
He's not exactly here right now
He's somewhere, anywhere, nowhere
Vile, dark, bubbling up, ripping, tearing
His chest is in pieces, but he's not here
He isn't entirely aware yet
He's out walking, arms crossed
His eyes are clear this time
He found them again, just like last time
And he'll find them again, just like this time
He's not here right now
Finally, a flinch, a bink, a slow head turn
He half-hazardly reaches for his phone
The wooden nightstand feels off
His hand, barely visible, feels wrong
The light blinds him for a moment
Did he sleep at all? He didn't know
He wasn't there to see it