I will not allow the mistakes of old to make rumination into devastation.
Let me break my own soul, my own heart.
Allow me to tear myself apart so that I can never make this mistake.
Let me be poetic this once.
Before prose breaks down and I find myself with nowhere to hide.
Let me go.
The branch goes, along with the leaves, as well as the whole ****** ******* tree. No more, I proclaim. I cannot live with myself, a duality when I've always known singularities. May 2017.