Sit with it, a moth ball grown with salty remarks, take a deep breath to compose yourself and nuture their sore ideas of you ,hoard open wounds to leverage over morality

Soaring these words,you engraved on my skin , soon to sail these waves of malignance that boil in me, consequence is nothing but the bittersweet aftertaste of dark chocolate for the excruciating torture i'll inflict onto you will bring an end to my cold sweats

these aren't inchoate feelings but spawns of postponed smiles. Now, how do i drive them into suicide