Here We Go Again
You are the epitome
of drinking poison to kill myself—
then building an immunity,
or worse, addiction.
As if I,
and everything I do,
is merely a testament
to the fact
that I will always choose you
over me.
Dizzied by it,
I circle back.
What you call victory
is my relapse.
A spinning,
perpetual impediment—
you gain worth,
I lose my mind.
Every time is the last time,
and I say it
with sincere sentiment.
And yet,
I always end up back here
against my better judgment.
