Screeching into the Abyss

Called it mercy

I tweak the story in its telling

To avoid blurred moral metaphors that conflate kindness and cruelty, that mess with ones mental and excuse the common hate

Best to keep the story pleasant, unambiguous, concise

And give a sense of closure to the absurdities of life

But even then, they still misread your lines

So I guess

T e e t h i n t h e g u t

S k i i i i i n n n n i i i i n n n n g

G n a s h i n g c r a s h i n g c l a c k i n g

Me: its like I have a blockage in my throat when I try to speak.

Therapist: and how do you think we can recreate that physically?

Me: can I just strange myself in your office?

Therapist:

Me:

Therapist:

Me:

Therapist: im not saying no

Me: what of it?

Roommate: forget the fly, you didn't even button them. They're practically falling off.

Me: its my house, innit?