Despair
For the inevitability of you
The mere mincing of words
The charm and the timing
The ruin of imagination
Open to interpretation
The plausible deniability
An endless circle of paranoia and fear
And longing, so much fucking longing
For the undeserved from the undeserving
Destiny is a coward’s blanket
But the neurons that fire
How were they positioned such
To fall victim time and again
Sieve soft save for your particular web
A tiresome unmaking
Plastering the holes
And then another round of this
Why is reciprocation
For even a micro-bloody-second
Not in the books
Dimensions of singular desires
Never fated to align
Always fictitious
Left behind wounded
Getting back up closed
Guarded and inaccessible
Then another comes
And then another round of this
Running out of masks
Nothing new left to try on
But funnily they endure
As the core withers beneath
“Not yours, never yours”
Which is fine, fuck if I care
The tale is of by-standing
Theoretically harmless
But historically not and now
Not even a different hemisphere,
A few dozen months,
A few dozen passing fancies
In the oyster that is the world
Have weaned you off
This fervent rage
For the crossing of such divergent paths
The maddening inevitability of you
The infuriating recurrence of you
In another name and another face
What escape and what reprieve?
From such damning evidence
of the solidity of my piteous base nature
Is it such a necessity, this ritual sacrifice
Throwing of pride to a pyre
If the end is always
Burnt