There’s a curse that, although unwritten
Holds me accountable and over tight and over bearing
Claims victory of any defeat or
downward motion
Shouts with joy in the face of
decline
spiralling
Roars with smug pride at
bad ebbs
poor flows
Laughs with tears of arrogance at
my despair
my hatred
my self-loathing
It’s unwritten yet we speak of it frequently
enemy vs enemy
foe vs foe
back and forth in this
cyclical hell I have created
The eternal question, cycling round
is this it? forever?
How I was blessed with the over-arching self-awareness
and deep thinking and pondering
yet this amplifies the pain x 10
amplifies the doubt
the self-loathing
Chalking it up to experience
time and time again
over and over
hands circling a clock, the inevitable reset midnight brings
a page into page into chapter
but the book never ends.