fester.

in true june fashion i am once again smothered. not as if i tried to save myself, but neither did i hold off the temptation... such a sick mind of mine, that lures itself to its own end; knowing, oh so surely, that this will once again send me careening into disaster. discourse, my love, give me comfort, reassurance (in the form of self affliction).

but see, child... disaster is safe, in its own demented way. to discord i am drawn, to discourse. 

chaoschaoschaosofmyowncreation!!chaos!!

...what i crave. i can't settle until i corrupt everything (within me... my own walls).

twisted, isn't it? that i may only reassure my mind with the sickness i planted in myself. festering my own demons in my mind. rotting my brain away, visions, depriveandrepress!!! to ache and sting is better than to feel nothing at all. right?

fuck no.

so sick, so close.

- v.