your hyperbolic words--
like wraiths interred--
scratch, scratch at my neural pathways:
i've never had to eat my own,
but with your phrases of absolutes
comes a feast:
nevers, and
forevers, and
hate and love
and Hell and Heaven--
a feast 'pon which you will surely choke.
your non-commital rhetoric
burns like cochlear poison;
a cancer, a sickness, a languid hellfire
with ev'ry parting of your putrescent lips.
with ev'ry word comes boiling bile:
hot, smelly, self-assuring.
death of mind and heart alike.
i opine, i thrive; my words will not die.
i do not dine.
i do not dine.
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