Crashing.

There is nothing symbiotic in this. Destruction is a slow and steady course. Did we think we’d avoided that by particulars of happiness, fulfillment, intoxication and attraction, conversation and contracts?

I’m only banking around the problems, complications, odds and ends no-one can stand to face.
I’m only biting my tongue, black and blue, pressed hard against my teeth. Just so I don’t say something out of control.

Poison in my skin, poison in my head, poison in my heart chambers trying to break out. Regardless how I go or how hard we cry — no salt or saline will wash this away.

So, instead, I’ll crash and burn and still be alive on the other side.
I’ll drag this dead husk through the dust and just get clean on the other side.

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