a game we’re playing
filling in the bottomless pit
with the pieces
we hack from ourselves
and each other
to cure it

but love and healing
aren’t really the same thing
they are both forms of caring
it’s just that one stems from need
the other want
and ‘relationship’
should never be code
for ‘triage’
and ‘lover’
makes a shoddy synonym
for ‘doctor’
and doctors
aren’t supposed to

fuck patience
and someone else’s rearview
isn’t an excuse for more suffering

you don’t sink the boat that rescued you
from maroon deserts and tiger floats
drowning isn’t a group sport
it’s just cruel and sad
to wallow in Sorrow
who takes everything and saves nothing
Sorrow is the sentient whisper
of the quantum ghost daring you
to shoot up strangers and eat the barrel
to go together like it will make you less lonely

Sorrow makes cult leader kool-aid company
inverts joy and suffering so beautifully
makes you want
to write razorblade symphonies
to sing praise
like Munchausen meets Stockholm
like catholics self-inflict penance
to their s & m god
like addict
to relief
to shakes
to horses
to water

Sorrow slakes
like salinated
ever thirstier
it’s never enough
until it’s too much
it stitches mouth shut
pours poison in ears
cuts eyelids
wide open
like alex
singing in the rain
exquisite horrorshow
Sorrow makes you beg
before it fucks the eyehole


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
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