The illecebrous urge to
                                     desist
       from persisting
                        leaves indelible scars
                                   on my
               widdiful skin.

I lay in dysania, silently 
                                      accismus of any
           nepenthe,
                          an escape from my
                                                          druxy,
            something to whelve my
sorrows.

Drapetomania 
                        envelopes me, my heart
                                                      esurient
                        to absquatulate and
                            become 
something of
                      tacenda.

My monachopsis leaves me
                                        gauche and
                                        agelast;
      my cacoethes reflects
                             kalon to my
            blade.

-@Aceashi