I’ve worn this face for nine months,
letting it gestate fully into a septic simulacrum
that’s given birth to the worst parts of me.
I’ve let this crucible crush me:
the weight and frenetic pace devouring whole
any semblance of sanity.
I’m unrecognizable:
a specter of hollow dreams and cheap dogmas,
empty lies spilling forth
sustaining this insatiable slaughterhouse heresy.
I must peel away the ruins of this facade,
divest fully from the tethers of this greed.
I need to wash clean the many sins etched upon me;
breathe free for the first time in what feels like
Eternity.
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