Sorry can't describe the shame
That's made when I imbibe and then decide
I will ascribe atop your name
Things that deride.
Soberly I might mistake
My weakness for a bleakness in the time
We have together--peace will break
Like shell of rime.
Nothing can abate the spate
Of maelstrom and a spiral reign, the way
Too pained, invading pull of hate
Brings brain delay.
Trying to rely on you
I'm really not accustomed to because
A glut of cut-up trust may skew
What judgment does.
I've definitely experienced my fair share of brain delay...
ReplyDeleteI especially enjoyed the ending: "A glut of cut-up trust may skew
What judgment does." The sounds and ideas are so clear here.