an analysis

I should take my medications tonight but I won't be swallowing the two little pills. No.
Highly irritable.
Erratic electricity circulates and the sound rings in my ears. Insects have injected themselves under my cold skin.
Masticate my salty flesh.
Regurgitate those infected proteins and let me swim, sink and succumb into that murky sludge.
She disguised herself as a daffodil of kindness and peace.
Such a wretched whore.
My sickness is an inconvenient complication not worthy of her precious time -- a fucking text message.
Devious cunts crawl under guises of smiles and goodwill. Don't believe their faces. Their words. Don't believe anyone.
Devices drive the corrupt and they will not cease until you have become a wrecked and charred soul: used up, emptied of faith, trust, all those sacred components crucial to establishing meaningful relationships and friendships. You'll become a "ridiculous" object riddled with "mood swings."
Thank you for your faultless analysis, Perfection.

mc