my loss will be mourned differently.
i’ve moved past the torture.
no use torturing self if i secretly enjoy it.
.
another long gulp.
fuck, this toxic diarrhea tastes awful.
yet it keeps me on my mission.
.
to extend this last day. Last.
no tomorrow i whisper.
it echoes inside.
.
another attempt by my
past darkness to assert its power over me.
easily repelled.
Stream of happymess 