Another spray of drunken words in vain
And you still forget yourself, us.
Red flags are nothing in comparison to the self-destruction you propose on yourself.
I no longer wish to watch it, but somehow I cannot look away from the wreck in front of my eyes.
Love is a funny thing in that it ties us to the most toxic portions of ourselves.
It has come a time that I must decide whether I wish to live with this poison or depart from it and move onward.
But somehow letting go of the past still feels like letting go of everything.
And that is not a decision that I can make at the moment.
But it will be one that will resurface, and I anticipate that move when I finally step away.
Free at last?
No.
Freedom is only an ideal pushed by the elite to give us hope to fervently consume.
Never free. Only open, honest, and ever more connected to the person, the people, that I wish to become.





















