I am the dweller.
Wading in a bog of self pity and intoxicants.
Resistant to change and possessed by expectations.
A riptide in the lives of others.
Manipulating everyone for material gain.
Always with the intention to medicate.
Ignorant to the chaos I generate.
Resentments oozing, seeping, and boiling from my mind;
I try to stuff it in, and kiss my lies goodnight.
The denial of destruction is more present than I can muster.
The delusion and the misery is glaring and fluorescent.
Dragging my bloody ankles on the ground for everyone to witness and smell–
a glutton for self pity and punishment.
Unworthy of pleasure.
Entitled to an existential crisis and morbid reflection.
Self denigration and a resin stench.
Leaving only for the option to deteriorate or prosper.
Prosper I chose.
A wind and whisper in my ear.
It was chosen for me.
