Romance is dead.  
It's throat laid open,
love cascading down.

Murdered by progress,  
by the reduced
synaptic
span
on
constant
scroll,  
lips smacking for the next
hit of instant
gratification.

Breaking into a cold sweat
at the thought of  waiting
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
or patient endurance, and the  
reward of long fought effort.  
IRL.  

The beautiful cat and mouse of our ancestry;  
that wove such wonderful tales  
into the bark of our trees,  
replaced by all the clever wit  
and subtle nuance of  
our enlightened future.  

swipe right  
“send nudes”  
“DTF”

This habitual
Hypocritical ritual
Keeps me cynical
The biggest battle's internal
A raging war roaring eternal
To vile for an example
Dying inside is literal
Allowing the visual
To be topically minimal
Though the condition is critical
A pitiful cry for help comes out in a trickle
Subliminal and lyrical
The unusual becomes typical
With the refusal of a label
There's no removal of the painful
Every attempt has been futile
Life is miserable
When love is conditional

©2024

Have you ever had one of those moments?
You know, like;
when before you can begin to get a sentence in, you see the other person's eyes roll.
when words of wisdom sound arrogant and cynical.
when you know you're being far too critical.
when your obnoxiously focused on the most simple wrinkle.
when your little issues seem to flip to psychosis and drive you mental.
when your own thoughts threaten to send you to a hospital.
when tomorrow feels like just another obstacle.
Those moments when breathing feels impossible
When contemplating turns suicidal
And dreaming becomes unbearable
That special moment when it sets in that this doesn't feel like living,
This feels more like survival
No?
You've never had that feeling of being out of control,
Lost in a downward spiral?
Where you swear,
This mountain used to be a molehill...

®2024