I miss aloneness
It is more agreeable to me than this intolerable closeness
flecks of meek affection rising in my spirit
That I will drown with the irresponsible consumption of strong spirits
Full of so much hate
I cannot see straight
When I found that men were nowhere free
Call this solipsism anarchy
Some of us are a law onto themselves
To face to consequences and never cede my will
An unbroken power
That destroys all that cowers
The pen is bleeding
In honor of tears I cannot cry
not even when my mother dies
A problem with drinking
Mine is only one of thinking
Not the bottle
But what is bottled
Living in my head
In the fields of the undead
Never so bold
As when one has grown cold
Don't pull me from this
Closer than I ever was to the yawning abyss