Once again I touch the glass,
My lips and against the chill of the glass –
Razor’s edge
Of unforgiving crystal.

Golden nectar,
Nourished by caring arms
And shining eyes –
This joy is borrowed.

I cannot say why I return over and over
Why I am drawn,
Lodestone to pole
To this dissociation with life.

Where does this path point?
Where do these feet pull
This slow,
Reluctant mind?

Escape had been so easy,
Upon a time
I knew paths to release
Before these shackles of Duty.

This pull is more than desire,
It is compulsory,
A need to flee,
To not be.

I am not searching for nothing,
I do not yearn for nonexistence,
I only wish to escape
The trap of this reality.

This reality,
Wherein a moment of peace
Is bought at the price
Of a day of pain.

This reality
Where I watch Being
Dissolve continually
into unbeing.

So I make the trade.
I buy escape
For the price of depression.

Pain deferred,
Deferred with interest.
Why is there always such cost
For joy?

Another sip.
One last sip
Takes me from reality
To escape.
I sign the debt.


7 responses to “Debt

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