Comeuppance for Avarice

So very, very tired

these powdered bones dissolving in

a whirlwind of metal smells

and crimson dreams

that I refuse to take part in

for I know if I close

these midnight eyes, I'll never

relish the suns glory ever again.

So I burn the candle

that perfumes the air with a haze

of memories better left alone

yet are always relived when

Mozarts best floats about this

prison of thoughts whose keys

are made of shattered quartz

masquerading as something worthwhile

that takes far too long to form.

So I'll forsake another one of

my children to bolster the self-esteem

that has fled to balimier climes

a long time ago, leaving a hastily

scribbled note proclaiming its

love for my nonexistent strength

will never falter.

Its not nonsense, motherfuckers.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

angry and paranoid and sad and hurt and lonely and all the bad feels.

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