A Cancer in Society...A Canker in Sobriety

Riddled with guilt over not being who I should've been, my back revolts. Lower lumbar throw down your tools. Mobility goes on strike and his union brothers in the renal system won't cross the lines. Kidneys stop your filtering. Let's make a fuckin point to this guy once and for all.

YOUR A CLICHE. Let's face it. the bottom line is. at the end of the day. all we can do is put one foot in front of the other. give it one hundred and ten percent. leave it all out in the open. and. hope for the best.

The works shut down, I hobble to the office and have no shroud of secrecy not one sliver left of what endeared you to me in the first place. The veneer having been scraped off, the patina dulled.

You harbored your illusions. Ignored the mess and tried to string together this messy marionette called me. You got frustrated bailed and I never failed to mention it all along.

This my dear is not an affliction, this is my life. I don't suffer from, I suffer in. Without a vice I'd eat a gun and suicide is not a good habit to get into.

Plastic prefab melting into molds I don't know you. Good on you though.

The best trick a psycho ever played was convincing the world she wasn't a bitch.

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