Spare me your words

Unbridled anger.

You. You coaxed me. You lured me. I trusted you. Fuck you. Fuck you so very much.

Then you. You. You were full of lies. To cover your shame. But that didn't stop you. Your shame was more important than your words reassuring. Fuck you.

You too. Of the many many things you didn't want me to see, hiding all this with your words. How much more do you keep under cover, in the shadows, wanting none to see? Deceit. Fuck you.

And you. With your candy coated shit. It has no nutritional value for me. It has only rotted in my stomach. Flattery gets you to the 8th level of hell, only one level above the frozen throne of Satan himself. Fuck you too.

You over there, somewhere. You have no words. Where are your words at all? Where are *you* for that matter? You said something once. Your words should be so important, more important than most others. Where are you? Well you get one too. Fuck you.



I always knew what 'unbridled anger' meant, but I never before today picked up on the metaphor. What was, for me, a simple way of expressing anger above anger, is now an elegant manner of relating the unstoppable fury, the reptilian, mindless rage. Beast set free.

Some days are just darker than others.

Veritas Vos Liberabit