Vomity Turmoil

Everytime you talk, every syllable you speak of him and every ounce of energy you throw into working under him brings my stomach to it's knees. The thing that holds communion, that holds meals and food that we've shared is brought into raw anger. It's been close to seven years now, if not more, that I've had to endure his mannerisms of life. Seven years of ignorance, seven years of visualizations of your demeanor. Seven years of humiliation. Physical fuckety has taken place in me. Physically ill will. Ill actions. Not even a thirst for torture, but more to flex the muscles of my fingers into his eyes. To surpass my strength limits and snap him into a contortion of illusions. My teeth clench in insanity to break bones, to hear them crack and grind inside his body. I have lost communication skills in such turmoil. In such vexation. I've lost th----.....