Learning to excel in fluctuating
circles of Hell.
Think God might’ve brought
me here but
it’s too early to tell.
All the spells I fell under, young, have worn off like cologne and all
the places I called home are tainted by hubris.
Why do I feel like the lunatic wanting to leave the crazy ones behind?
Why was I billed
as your villain
merely a matter
when I only
tried to save the
world between our sheets?
I could admit defeat so many times over, but it would
bring us no closer,
only to coordinates
I felt too important
the delusion, the
there’s no roadmap to co-existence if you’re circling the same street infinitely.
There are no feats in accepting misery as status quo,
but whereever your wayward heart may go,
sure to follow suit.