I spiked my blood young,
Then twenty-five years of referential mustard gas disorientation,
Dreaming goldfish futures through silverfish struggles.
I courted myself, screwed myself,
And dumped myself repeatedly —
Anchored self-sabotaged hostage situations
With various victimized paramours and polymours.
My self-poisoned heart laying curbside
Self-broken,
Ignored by even the rats and pigeons
As I judged you from the gutter
Or while foraging through trash cans
For hard pizza crusts and discarded iced drinks.
The sinister cynicism of
“A blanket of snow”
In the cold of winter.
Castigating you for both your sympathy and apathy
Envious that I had only the latter
And no roof or walls to hide my envy
Or my disdain.
The shelf life of memories
Radioactive or still hidden
Until I awaken to the newer dark
Of the great relief
I had briefly forgotten.