mindless indulgence cracks the periphery of my existential crisis
where are my guardian Angels?
when have they hung themselves, suspended—waiting for my bones to finally congeal?
addiction to the sting of flagellation, regardless of my being Atheist the cards speak back when they are spoken to Idly the incense rises lamenting the kindredness of being alive and breathing together, unable to move forward, in the same way that I came
I unravel from the web I spun you are free to go, the hunger has passed
