A Boxful Of Sins To Boil My Flesh From My Skin – Wrapped In Words

I sit here stewing in my own juices, as the sweat pours from within and runs down my face, the saltiness cascades over my tongue like treats of insanity, hallucinations trick me with their dastardly lies, my mind, my imagination, my madness humiliates my pride, my eyes fog over, my breathing slows down, my seat slowly swallows me, my imagination my bitter crown, confused, drowned, drained of all I am, then a breeze of coolness rushes over me like a wave and for a moment, a precious moment, I am free, I am me, a reprieve for my sins, then it goes as it came, and the heat picks up once again, so does the sweat, that flows down my forehead once more…

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