I Smile, Now, Thinking: We

The Slime Of All My Yesterdays Rots In The Hollow Of My Skull.

The Blood Of Love Welled Up In My Heart With A Slow Pain.

God, Is This All It Is, The Ricocheting Down The Corridor Of Laughter And Tears? Of Self-worship And Self-loathing? Of Glory And Disgust?

I Don’t Care About Anyone, And The Feeling Is Quite Obviously Mutual.

There Is A Certain Clinical Satisfaction In Seeing Just How Bad Things Can Get.