In hope to relate.

Complacent the landscape
to a stretch of earthbound sun.
The substance in shadows
dissipates, drowning out beauty
in nasally whispers.

I wonder the worst things
I can possibly do,
and desire how it feels
to view the affected.
I can’t bring myself to do it.

Succumbing to pleasure,
numbed to growth.
Temptations of fake sweet
forces my aloofness.
My vise to invoke.
My demons are real.



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