II Epistle of lost causes

On steeds of relentless love I went with her. In loyalty and patience but an empty purse

She didn’t care until she did then I bored her

Now I’m afraid to be by myself for the ghost of the life we had haunts me with riotous taunts in my head of how blind I must have been

I wonder on the other most definitely bragging to his brethren about the conquest of my beloved and I shrink to the littlest pieces of me

I’m a mess inside but outside I’ve never been more boisterous. My hollowness reverberates; I throw notes about but love will not be bought only ungrateful thank yous and listless orgasms

I find no one for I have moulded woman in her image and likeness I’ve set sail on new expeditions but encounter only despair perhaps I should give up now and fall on my oars till Aphrodite pities me

The thing that kills you and you won’t let go of. A masochist I have become by inadvertence a condition with me in it’s stranglehold, noose tightening the harder I struggle.

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