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Another query, when you were acquiring the toilet paper to make your wig, did the people in the truck stop’s restroom get upset as you dived for the toilet to grab the used paper before they flushed it away?

I’ve got so many questions.

When you go to confession, do you make them strip just to make sure that there aren’t any satanic marks on them?

When you sleep, can you taste the evil of the world conspiring against you? Can you feel it’s tongue reaching deep through your ear, into your heart? Can you see it in the mirror in the morning, the torrents of puss eviscerating your eyes?

Can you tell that others see it in you? Can you see that children can feel it?

Can’t you feel it? As the mist of confinement seeps into each molecule of your being.

As your beliefs are shit upon as they should be.

As the world laughs at your wanton ignorance.

As those around you ignore your ranting and raving lunacy.

As the brand of traitor seeps from your every word.

As you crumble under the weight of your own devices, I laugh at you, mock you and ridicule you, as that is the only form of attention that you deserve.