i rack the depths of my conscious mind hoping to find what the unconscious hides. exploring the mysterious deep caves of my psyche, which hoards buried trauma chests and rejected repressed reminders of drunken debauched deeds
those awful humiliating blurs in the midst of slurs, and stumbling carcasses in crumbling grog bars. where the incongruous combination of chemicals digested in whiskey pools of my otherwise empty stomach, and blood rushing to my heart ache taking a turn for the worst.
those intoxicating devices which grip and control without license act as my puppet master, for whom i dance without order. there is no clarity in that dooming bliss where the infidelity of a lustful kiss is a casual handshake in a red dress. nothing good ever happens after 2am, and 3am is the devil's hour while 4am knows your secrets and riddled repressed regrets.
blinded by denial deduced from delirium I still despise myself the next day whilst in disarray, silently craving the grave before the sun sets on my fragile body. self-loathing isn't a charming game to play but it is the tormenting price you pay, for not all is bliss if you bathe everyday in the pools of folly.