An outburst of pus as the concealed wound had erupted in a mountain or volcanoes inside of me, it was a cyst.
Of all the surgical removals I could have sought for I chose to leave it as it as and it grew and grew. My innards have made way for this nuisance in my life, and I start to feel the heavy existence of it in my as it presses outwards to my chest.
I can barely breathe, without feeling like I needed to choke, or in fact vomit the air I had inhaled because of all the impurities it had. I want to purge the evil and bad rots inside of me, or simply not to care of this black, tar-ridden piece of flesh.
Wheezing that was barely audible was loud in the night air, especially when someone listens for it, they will start to smell the bad breathe your lungs have to emit into the night air, chilling black smoke.
Oh God, you must not exist or you would not let me suffer, in your absence we have all found abscesses underneath our human skin with gross intentions.