A glance from you is a seed of kudzu.
The madness spreads,
wrapping around each tree,
gripping it in a panic.

This is not healthy.
I use you like I would pop pills
to forget about things
I don't like about my existence.

Can you lose yourself
within yourself?

Sometimes,
when I sit alone,
I wish the forest of my life would burn.
I would light the match,
and I could once again
see the sky.

The throbbing headache and nausea
I can endure; I've had worse.
Right now I could cry,
such a raw hope consumed me
as I thought about you, desperate.
It was still dark for me then,
when I needed you. Now it's day.
It brings a true smirk to my face
to know you are nothing more
than a night of binge drinking:
a foolish part of my youth,
a consequence of boredom.
I could not hold your liquor,
I vomited all that bile you said to me
in the hedges outside. Don't fret,
this is not a bad memory, in fact
you might never be a memory at all.
I am well. I will drink better and
far more dangerous poisons.
I am today, you are only last night.