I took a shower and I made it too hot on purpose so that I could let all the poison out.
It felt so damn good, every scalding drop. I could feel the anger washing down and off of me.

I was clean. It was amazing. It was a dream. I could taste it.

I made some sandwiches to replenish all of the vitamins, the vital ones I lost during the detox rinse.
I forced down every bite and washed it down with a gallon of milk I acquired from the Mountain Goats from around the block.

My tongue was turning purple, my face lit bright with boils from the boiling water I used to make me good. Now, it may seem like self-mutilation but that is so fucking stupid.
Q: Who in their right mind would hurt themselves likes that?
A: Someone who needs the attention, I assume.

I was clean. It was amazing. It was a dream. I could taste it.

I ignored my need for a Doctor and I just kept on making sandwiches that I'd eat every time that I was feeling sad.
I only watch DVDs of TV shows and not movies because I'm terrified for when something must come to an end.

I was clean. It was amazing. It was a dream. I could taste it.

I thought I had mastered the art of driving and sobbing at the same time but in one lapse of bad judgement I was killed.
Yeah, my body ripped to ribbons in the ether of the macrocosm so nobody remotely important will ever know about it.

I was clean. It was amazing. It was a dream. I could taste it.