9/24/2016
I do it to myself.
Every Goddamn time.
Make choices that foster
The perfect environment
For this disease to fester,
To spread,
To flourish:
In a petri dish
of my own self-deprecation.
Why do I do it to myself?
I don't have a fucking clue.
Perhaps I enjoy the despair
The loneliness,
The attention,
From being someone worthy
Of pity.
I know I should stop.
I know I could.
But I don't.
I can't.
When will I stop doing it to myself?
Not soon enough.
I'll watch Hell freeze over
Before my mind wakes up
From the shitty scene
I've painted in my dreams.
The darkest of blues, blacks—
Purest of reds and grays
Fill my palette.
My bristles marry each color
Pronouncing a holy unity
Upon the canvas of my mind.