When the temperature reaches above 100 degrees Fahrenheit and my mind begins to melt… I know summer has arrived. I think I’m dying. Not sure how. My body is weak. My eyes are shallow. My face looks dead. Something inside of my soul must have wilted. Whether or not I discover its decomposed body by the sour odor or the fragments of its bones. It feels like maggots are consuming every last bit ofo tis remains. Collections of dust, rust, and black lust. A hole in the darkest cave. How I dread the sickness in my stomach. Maybe the demon needs to be uncaged… Curses! Call me morbid, see if I care. How much energy is exerted as I place my pen onto the paper to express my current emotional state? There’s a toxic gas slowly leaking in my brain, my mind is obscure and the fog has clouded my truth.

Goodbye reality.