the complexity
of my dysfunction
carefully cultivated
grown and groomed
as an impenetrable barrier
to imagination

gives pause

no reality
no recourse
for the last
insufferable time

is lost

and neither pleasure
nor pain
would deign survive
that past

that cost

to sustain in hope
to thrive just once
as the texture
of my experience
serves only to tighten
life’s poorly knotted rope

it’s actually quite simple
this harvest of souls
it was never about the journey
but rather
a stupid numbers game

rife
all the same
with contradictory patterns
of random trauma

Peace/Love

m(~_~)m