What I say when it falls apart (A Staggered Acrostic)
See, the path is one of loathing –
a hellish endeavor in holding hands
our angelic internal voices collapsing
while trumped up signs lead to the brink.
Feeling tremors never felt so cathartic,
a shade of ecstatic, one step from the
eschaton, a reveal worth division.
Is this a forced escape? No, the torsion
makes the way so detached I feel free