I dicern the uncomforting sensation to excavate the catacombs of my physiognomy. 

I exhibit my excavational tool, and begin to bore within the caves of my profile.

The sensation is overwhelming, almost as if

various miniscule gnomes began to thrum at the core of my proboscis.

It's incredible.

It's sensational.

It's done.

I look down, and I see,

the pay dirt of my prolonged work sitting on my finger. 



Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741