May 2021
a river of dried blood, flash flood
awakened by the charade
of a pretended perfection, broken
hopes for the future gasp for breath
he claws for a branch, suspended
brittle over the black torrent
as if it could hold the weight
of a thousand years
and, like every final breath,
his last breath
is a breath
out
awakened by the charade
of a pretended perfection, broken
hopes for the future gasp for breath
he claws for a branch, suspended
brittle over the black torrent
as if it could hold the weight
of a thousand years
and, like every final breath,
his last breath
is a breath
out
Trying to drown an incessant need for perfection. It's very hard to ****, even though it is clear how much it holds me back. It seems I can never walk away with resuscitating it. Maybe this time, it'll stay dead.
