Vices, circling tighter.
I have slid back into them like a hand into a dish glove,
Only to find lingering soapy water in the fingers.
They don’t do what I want them to do,
Don’t relieve my misery as I had hoped.
And I burn burn burn like a circle of hell,
While trapped in my own ring of fire.
I think about you.
But that’s not enough either.
What is?
The chains get a better hold of me.
I take a deep breath
and let myself be pulled under.