Hiding from hurting

Distancing myself from hurtful surroundings

Is that what you are trying to tell me?

Sprinkling me with malignant muck from your licentious life

The triple steps are the ones to take now to invalidate it among bunches of succulent agaves and cacti

Revelations of raucous times discovered along the arid way

Are there any springs of water to refresh my inflamed senses?

Can we not open this can of worms?

There is a place where it hurts the most, the

Ink has dried in my pen, the words have gone astray

Onerous inner burning

Nip in the bud of complicated feelings