Capricious Delusions

Nothing ends
when everything is starting
to unravel, like strands of the tightest rope
losing their willingness
to intertwine, or the
bowel that is your
words disimpacting into an endless stream
of shit:

chasing me to the horizon,
that inexorably receding border into
happiness that I so wish was demilitarized;

coercing me to walk on solitary
thorns shielded by bubble wrap
whose incessant popping could drive this world
sane, with sculpted granite petals emerging as
cathartic, analgesic blades;

coaxing me to lands where
warmth is a privilege for those whom
you deem worthy;

crying acidic tears of
hypocrisy that make my insides
burn until I am a shriveled mass
kicked under your bed, dissolving
into the carpet and leaving a stain
that on certain days might resemble a smile;

caressing me with memories
until I subscribe to voluntary
amnesia and it all just
stops.

No, nothing ends
until I say so,
but ‘so’ resides on the other side
of that goddamn horizon.