All monetary discretion
I retired at 27
With death at age 37
Wiped way and washed
Like ashes to dust

Terrified of endurance
I know there’s no assurance

For my love
For my gain

Banded like toothpaste
White with mystery
Brushing in purgatory

For my lies
I asked candles
Waxy and dismantled

Burning with my dissent.
For my logic
Emotion is bent.