self loathing writing after throw up
pity you, running around like a headless clown juggling all that self loathing spilling your secrets like a fountain of vomit licking the back of the ones you hate most to find the bitter milk that nurture your spine is it not crazy, how tenderly you rip yourself apart tearing like a clay man, blood thicker than mud you’re mind unfolding into itself trying to catch an itch you came up with how a thought enter your mind a mayfly destine to die but instead wreak havoc a catacomb full of bones, chattering and dancing with the utmost joy as you spill your gut and all roses you had left until your inard is smooth like a balding man’s head soft as feather and full of acid a shining prison for your self pity
