all things go

I never let things go

even when they hurt me

even when they kill me

it is in my disposition

to let them do so

silently

slowly

until I start to fester

until my flesh is eaten away

to the very bone

even still

I can’t let things go

I hold them close to me

like fire

in the coldest winter

like a torch

in the darkest cave

I hold them up

and there they shine

I let them pave my way

so that past becomes present

fear becomes fraudulence

life

becomes something

like death

a reckoning

a tear down one’s cheek

a slow, sad stretch

of seamless repetition

a relentless punishment

for the eternally blurry gleam

of the past

of my sins and fears

and of all the ways

I have been weak

and failed

and frightened myself

is perhaps within itself

that fatalistic glow

in the dark corners

of these eyes

and in the endless caverns

of this wretched mind

-

Kind of a crappy poem, from the trenches of my notes app. But alas—a poem nonetheless.

Thanks for reading!