Day: Feb 5, 2020

Every 5 minutes I save your inanity with my insanity in the making,

Every other morning I hate your profanities – as they are backbreaking.

Your dull words with their made up sanctity force my lips to become abrasive.

Should I let you go or keep fissioning while I pretend to embrace it?

What comes next is never a given with you, and it frightens me fiercely.

The next time your bright eyes darken, should I count your shots and wait out the first three?

Should I lay low or shoot back, or fall deeper?

I am not the one to admit the victory of the reaper.

But my personal little deaths always looked like your face.

It’s at the finish line of every track, of every race.

Could have sworn – no one ever told me about the truths you face

Looking for someone to chase at your own pace.

Even 5 years ago I was ready to conquer my two star town for the title,

Even people I barely knew viewed my mind as a funny farm or a spital.

My insides were filled with flammable liquids but I got used to drowning.

Should I spit out the flames now or should I try putting them out

with all the drinks that I’m downing?

You would know the answer to that, love, wouldn’t you?

How come the worst of my demons is the one that is true?

I am not the one to deny that my pride is a fallen virtue.

So why does every time you step on it feel less like a torture

And more like a comically tragic ending to the heroine

Whose emancipation narrators rooted for but they could not fit it in?