Join The Wicked Dance.

There is a dull ache in my head and knife stuck in my chest.    
I’ve given up on you and now the rest have given up on me.    
I’m stuck in a haze of anger and distaste.  
 Irritability and hate are somber, sooty shadows that dance around me.  
 I take their frigid hands and join their wicked shadow-some prance under the looming erie tree.
But soon malevolence and hostilities grimy tendrils emerge and encircle my neck they crush down against my windpipe until vilification takes hostage of my tongue.  
 I can only sputter and stutter damnable blasphemy upon you.    
Convulsed tumors of bitterness curdle and rot in my stomach and become a gut retching rage.    
Vicious and foul loathsomeness will leave terrible stains upon my soul.    
Vexation Is a vile and wicked venom coursing through my veins