oh my beautiful liar…..oh my precious whore….my disease, my infection……i am so impure…… devils speak of the way in which she’ll manifest….angels plea for the tainted touch of my caress… — you still are a beautiful liar and a precious whore, and i doubt i’m the only one that thinks it. my eyes hurt…my head hurts, i’m tired…my experiment with the meds is over, i’m going back to where i started, and things will get better….