Gone are the written words of anguish from my youth,
buried somewhere under years of grime at the dump.
It does not decompose so quickly for me now.
They were written down because I was filled to the brim
with agony and had no place else to put it,
it was also an attempt to stretch out my pain and twist it into
The more I remain open, the more it provides me with a clear view of the length of time that has passed.
The true burn of being human and living in this world is all about
what is to be gained and subtracted without conscious.