my rules are broken, my castles shatter
and I am back into the freedom of a vice-full experience
The walls we use for discipline and structure also become our barriers, the bars to the prison cells we hold ourselves in, ideologically, and in effect, actuality.
I became my own trojan horse
infiltrated my own kingdom
and fucked myself royally.
Everything I said I wouldn’t do again
I do again.
I slide into old habits like a forbidden skin
apples with bite marks become fresh again
hides and leathers bring me to ride the pleasures
whiskey coats my throat and makes docile
the locks that restrain my demon
a black snake had evolved in form
and regression doesn’t bring it on,
a newfound repetition,
like incantations of ancient scribes
call upon the beast to arise.
I am only battling against myself.
I’ve wrote about this once, in a poem, something about winning and losing, when I battle myself.
Memory fades like the pages of my life kept stacked in a pile.
Not sure who will read them when I’m gone,
but they are there.
There is a magic in a solitary practice.
I used to write as a form of “waving the white flag” of surrender.
“Love, come to me, find me, use me”.
Now I’m calling out for myself.
If i defeat myself,
I might win something
A tainted victory
Gold medals still shine,
even if the antagonist was a creation of mine.
Maybe we all create our own battles
merely to give ourselves something to overcome.
We cannot accept a life of ease.
We feel alive in the heat of struggle,
in the throws of war,
in the despair of loss and longings of love.
If that’s the case,
don’t be shy with me.
Because my self-fabricated enemies will die with me.