such a waste as you erase, fall far out of grace
turn your back on the rest, morals all but left the constant need to juggle, the self-inflicted struggle bat a wandering eye while walking idly by one good look, all it took, now they're instantly hooked sick that it makes you proud that you draw such a crowd the deep, sinking hole that has become your soul the depravity holds no gravity when you call it serendipity such a sad world to hold as I'm lost in the fold caught the wandering eye, became ingrained in the lie my reality as it collapses, awash with drunk passion suppose it's my own fault - no restraint, no control that's strike one, proceed with caution didn't ask you for much, really anything at all you came during the flood, when everything was wrong my life, the twist, destruction in the tryst never should have been in the situation to begin in light of the lie that collapsed another life fucking around just to dull out the sound forget every moment spent with the disconnect what the hell am I but a subculture left to die? mistreated introspection you'd hide from detection? enlightened inner sight you'd hide from your own eyes a blotted out collection of misconstrued conjecture and thoughts long begot that you'd just rather not there's strike two, put it all on you feel the slightest bit alone when you head to your home? a familiar hold, an air ever-told, of a similar mold den inbred with the shame and the dread festering, pestering, worsening as you're wondering sleepwalking all night against constant fright fear of your other as he discovers your poor cover the fear as it's fed whilst you're lying in your bed tossing and turning through the pain and the yearning conceited and defeated from the life you depleted confused why it's this way when you're entirely to blame and these tired eyes writhe as they fade into the night empty and wide, buried before they've died ...strike three, get the fuck away from me three strikes, now the end is in sight cut off, collapse, as everything crashes three strikes, now I'm done with this strife you're cut off, collapsed - the destroyer of passion
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Author"Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls." - Anais Nin Archives
February 2023
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