bitterness gnaws on my consciousness
By lost the lonely dead •
the plastic fruit centerpiece liquifies with the striking vanity of perfume, a grotesque malodor, sweetly brewed with malice, spite, and witchcraft’s vengeance. flowing gracefully in waves like small whiffs of gut wrenching vulgarity the submission communicated with the wickedness of that singular utterance. inciting an emotional eruption seething with rage and yet confused and lost mingling with an intensely profound sense of speechlessness. i stand there a moment disgusted, where is this paradigm leading? i never found out, i died