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DPM May 2019
I feel the crunch of earth beneath my feet. The air is sickeningly pungent, damp, and still. These passages are dark; echoing the slithering and hissing of the cowardly, forsaken by the light.  Whisperhisss… Deafening, I can hear the complaining be passed through the ****** moving masses. The light I bear is agitating to these "companions" of mine. Striking at my legs for just existing in this space. If I should slip and fall into this mass of debauchery, it would be most welcomed to them. Fork tongues taste the air around me. With false pride and sense of honor, they report twisted truths and lies, aspiring to be noticed by the grotesque bloated glutton within the center this ball. Using every advantage to get closer and wriggle to the center of this ****. Could this be one of the many awful abominations birthed from the original sin, or is this just our unremarkable world doing what it does best. I would say the illusive truth and justice I seek isn't worth pursuing and I should just sit down; watch, the moments that I can bear. My daughter, I love you; I will limp forward as long as I can.
DPM Jan 2019
Of my fellow man. My burden. My loyalty is an invitation to mold my precious life into disgusting waste. His vison of me is a brush stroke in his perverted masterpiece. His life's work is shambles of nothing remarkable. Under him, all I paint with is grey.

— The End —