the SECOND of NOVEMBER, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY.

my stomach feels as if it is full of maggots. i feel so fucking sick. my heart is being eaten by decay.
i feel them all wriggling around in my guts. i feel the residual pus and disgust swirling around.
i'm so fucking nauseous. my head spins and spins and spins and regurgitates the same old addictive thoughts,
brain splatters on concrete and fragments of brittle skull hidden in my pocket.
perhaps i'd feel more human if i sank myself into the dreaminess of warm guts and soft flesh.
soft soft soft. i want to feel soft and pretty and pure again. pink and scarlet and ivory!!
i feel my brain melting out of my eye sockets. ouch.

take me back!