June 19, 2005 - Sunday
Happy Fathers Day
Current mood: nostalgic
I would rather be asphyxiated with dental floss than to endure a moment in the presence of my creator.
The mere thought of his being leaves a sour film of vomit against the back of my throat.
May he lay bound with barb wire intricately intertwined from mandible to metatarsal. The slightest move will impose agony, encouraging thoughts of begging for forgiveness. Perhaps one day the demon will escape into another existence.
Once he has been released from my presence I can exhale. Maybe for once I can be me.
Memories taken, not to be given. Stolen was my soul. Now I am left with an unoccupied pit. Wondering what would be the painless way to rid all recollections.
Release the demon that created me. Let him suffer in purgatory for time without end.
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