I've never been so solitary as when my constant flood of conquest ebbs.

When routinely, the perpetual failure that my duality has evolved to be surfaces blue and bloated.

But maybe a better resolution, would be to acknowledge my chemical dependence on dopamine flow.

This justifies the irrevocable collision of sinking love and drinking in my own mind--among other things.

Any one of these is sure to drown me before I do,
especially either of those breathing.