should the poles meet as often as they do?
if formed by hands on high,
why lay ecstasy and pain
as the first clay?
opposites
within the same woman,
the same flesh.
release me
from this poison ******.
it is death.
surely, longevity passes over
those who submit
to its bitter tang,
the moreish pain
that lives beyond parting.
when the highs and lows
call a draw, where can
one turn?
I am defeated.
the game has won.
I can feel nothing alone.
where do i sign?