My thoughts are eternally submerged in a mire of self-disgust.
I watch, aloof as the filth of this cruelty is accumulating around me,
repugnant insults carried on the glistening spittle flying off my tongue.
Hate-filled thoughts create a layer of crusty grime, hardening on the floor,
in time, I can almost hear the poison residue growing brittle beneath my soles.
Vicious inward punishments form a loathsome slurry in a vat of toxicity,
its fathomless depths threaten to consume me whole, but no one notices.
Mirrors reflect wretched ugliness, feeding the festering rot flourishing inside me.
Occasionally detectable, a faint scent of childhood joy permeates my dreams;
distant memories of delight in satin hair-ribbons, silky between small fingers
or muffled night-sounds of teenage camp-outs on hot summer evenings.
But like a lighter flame, they’re vanishing as a door opens;
a gust of abhorrence fills the rooms of my mind with waste,
once more.
