Destroy Me

Often it is in hereafter,

following the expulsion of thought

splattered across a face unwelcoming,

yearning reaches a standstill;

pivot against the friction of feeling

or indulge in a pursuit ever deeper in its shortcomings.


Henceforth it comes to light

when desperate rungs take flight,

desire possessed and lacked its direction

encoded into the machinations of being,

where the individual is never spared a thought,

but the outside world is provided ceaseless consideration.


Solely by the talent of losing

in cracked-soul prose and late-night episodes,

the all that could be given is given rashly

before the extent of the exodus is recognized.

In a short span between breathing and waking,

love escapes, half willing, half unwilling.

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