I think of you, dear cousin, and I can feel the sourness of the bile churn in my gut
I can taste the disgust in the words I want to speak of you
I want the world to feel my anger toward you
With each lashing word
I want the poisonous shards of my speech
To cut and burn your skin
Like disintegrating layers of flesh underneath a trickle of battery acid
Published by Zoe Murphy
41 year old, very happily married, youngest in a large Irish-Catholic family. Spent many years leading the party life, now enjoying the calm life. I'm using this blog as a place to write down memories from my days past, or thoughts that are in my head at the moment. I'm not expecting a following, but I do get excited every time I see that someone else read or "liked" one of my posts. View all posts by Zoe Murphy
I take my coffee with crazy please 