Writing against time's grain,

      Every second is a battle self holocaust un-esteemed anorexic game not-very-well-shakenly played, Poetry is my outlet and it is my shame, I write to share that which extinguishes my unauthentic hope to continue existing, Day by nearly dying day... For I am nothing if not a serpent striving to love; You!

In lieu of our participation of,
Many hopeful tomorrows,
In your ignorance,
Ride the waves,
Of bliss,
Until...