Morbid curiosity and an unhealthy love of sordid tales. Enraptured by to be or not be but ailed by a lack of personal clemency, a flagellatory mindset that fails when perspective is needed the most.
Misery loves company and I am all the company I will ever need. Diving deep into personal pain with pretexts of artistry, mostly leads to vain and vacuous soliloquies disguised as poetry.
Intellectualising emotion imagines impartiality, clarity and sanity; all skills I can deny with voracity.
The achievements I am proud of could be counted on one hand. I have never been that grand, cool or compelling. I am easily misled and strong headed with a strange love of meddling.
All of this is me but not all the time.Most of it is fine because being human isn’t a crime.
I am far from in love with myself but love begins with like and I can’t lie; I like myself a little.