Phase Two

I pre-emptively adored you.
This is entirely my fault.

It’s just the nature of my nature or personality or inner workings.
Obsession on both sides of the spectrum.
Did I make that apparent?

I alternatively love and hate you because these were the god/devil,
concepts I was endlessly indoctrinated by.

When drunk and complicated, thses nasty patterns bleed out of me, spilling hot 98 degree judgement on whoever happens to come into contact.

I’ve got this dirty rag I frequently use to clean up the messes of my incoherent adolescence. It’s brown-stained and thick with the guilt of angels, demons, gods, and guilt. It’s crusted and no longer maliable, effective, useful. But still, it’s the one place of my abandoned past I just keep on going back to.

Overly complicated, shame-based edges of that tattered rag still haunt my drug-induced dreams.
Is this peace?
Is this tranquility?


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