day 98 . blood, sweat, tears. part I.

squeaky chair.
crooked table.
hovering sounds.
brown liquid resembling fresh sewage.
other name for it in this mental cage: conscience.
fuck it. i guzzle it like there’s no tomorrow.
funny. for there is no tomorrow.
just today. hoping to make it last
longer than usual.
i infuse copious amounts of
toxic sewage inside me.
to achieve brutal honesty mode.

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