Venom

Restless it slithers under your skin, pore by pore. Like a low hanging mist that invades inside your room, it shall envelope all of your being. Your only fighting chance is if you can only keep urging yourself to believe that there is hope, even if there is fifty percent probability that there is none.
All the passive aggressive words, gestures, situations you were trapped in will feverishly send shivers of an incurable flu.
You will try to block block block all if it, the noiseless cacophony that pours into the eardrums soundlessly like molten lava but there is no escape from this hell. You are the inferno that created arson. Burn.

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