My soul, a glass of water, goes to black,
invaded by a thought of carnal lust
responding to the sadness in another.
The song I hear 's a fusion elegy,
bass-heavy, with a whimpering of horn;
it seeps into the vessel of my soul.
The other one is sad and lonely, too,
but doing the deed would leave a mark on me,
indelible till I forgave myself…
And that’s so hard as long as I remember.
Good stuff. A soulful elegy I must say.
Thanks, Arch. Sounds more alcoholic than sz, I think. Dark and sad. Makes me think of my dad had he written a poem.
Maybe not an alchy but a binge drinker.
Who, me? Everyone tells me I have the “disease alcoholism.” That it is progressive and often fatal. That I must “turn my life and will over to God as I understand him.”
I don’t know anymore what motivates the drinking behavior. And then there’s this whole BS controversy over “codependency.” The recovery industry (as I call it) will keep me coming back till there’s nothing left. Like peeling an artichoke: there’s nothing when you get to the center!
I was JK. But yeah I call it peeling an onion, tears are involved in the process.
I have difficulty recognizing a joke. Part of having BPD, if I do… Man, I put in a long day of appointment and group today. Tired.
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