i've turned into something awful,
something grotesque and bent,
sitting in the corner on the line of grey and black,
and stewing words inside of an open cranium,
mixtures of insecurities & dysfunctional thoughts,
it sits and spews this bile into a bowl,
held out in hands to catch it,
every night,
one hour,
shaken & stirred well,
poured down my throat,
*self-induced nightmares.