If we didn’t hold on to our pain
we would be like angels we would fly away but I’ve cherished the dross clung to my sadness so not to betray the sulky boy who won’t forgive the petty things the lack love and the little disappointments I am a snake consuming myself where the fox gnaws its leg to escape the trap I’ve scratched my wounds to remain in a finite regression
the landscape recedes a mobius strip through oblivion’s womb
and if l wasn’t so stuck up my own arse I’d be an angel I’d fly away
