. the smell of the room is jasmine and clorox. what ever the words someone is whispering, the sound carries down corridors lost. all the souls in heaven watch between the nightly scenes of torture of the damned, im the backup channel and the last resort, for the truth is, im in the throes of meeting my own reward, the meal i prepared and never had to eat before, now delivered covered in mold and worms and slime. the last of it i hope as the first was stll fresh and tasted like vomit. im not a proud man anymore and its not the same when you have no spine to stiffen or way to hold things that smell like something brought back from the dead. and thats what i feel, the undead return, they're hungry for my flesh and im eating myself, fighting them off. it is my pride and my anger and my bullying and my cowardice that is being served, i called it someone elses but i know thats my liver and parts of my colon and im sure that yellow thing was once a kidney before i tried to shove it in the closet and it started to decompose. The punishing upset, harsh words, the resistance and complaint, the dull lethargy and self destruction, my ugly past is here and it doesnt want to be forgotten without its just desserts.and some nice cream de cocoa for this mess wouldnt help. its not that im filled with the pus and bile anymore, but the residue is still powerful enough to hurt, and im not looking forward to whats left, i no longer can hide this shit anymore and my insides are turned out trying to clean it once and for all. but im sure it will come up again and again as i encounter my conterparts in the world and im set on a course to intersect and interact with what remains in me. sure, it feels so unenlightened, but really this is as good as it gets.
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