You are a raging alcoholic,
A bleeding masochist
Delighting in the debauchery
You wade in to ignite your self-loathing
And justify the stoicism that defines your life.
You are the type of person,
So entrenched in hopelessness
That you would excuse a domestic abuser,
Because co-dependence outweighs your well-being,
Despite your assertions to the contrary.
And I, fatigued by observation,
Resort to this libelous tirade
For no other reason than to obtain a mote of agency
Among the shipwreck caused by your storm;
And should this offer offense,
I hope you file suit
If only to come face-to-face with the realization
That your self-degradation is not internal,
That your immolation is a holocaust
Burning those around you.
You tried your damnedest
To send me spiraling,
But you didn’t even have to lift a finger;
Without effort, you conceive of machinations
So twisted and deranged no other could birth them,
And plummet me into ruin
In some sick imposition of penance.
You have accepted your birthright to catastrophe,
Wielding your inheritance as a shield
To protect yourself from those
Who would sever the binding on your wings
And see you take flight to the heavens above,
Proving yourself a god among the paltry.
You have withered,
Dragging those unfortunate enough
To be caught in your grasp with you
And suffocating them in the smoke,
Drowning them in the liquid,
Surrounding them with the profane and degenerate,
Until all these ugly truths
Morph into something else entirely
And you can vindicate your rage in ubiquity.