The putrid stench
of every tomorrow's
uncertainty breathes
ubiquitously like a
plague of yore,
a cancer of
present.

casks and vats
filled with spirits
and eves of
bingeing
can't ****** the
foul smelling demons that
patiently await
your conflicted worn out soul.

burning into a hell of blackness
filled with
mind twisting pain and
agony that nary a soul could bear.

scarlet letters be ******.