The abandonment came, and now this shabby bacchanal.
Delusion detests focus and romance provides the veil.
I feel angry but not homocidal; this may be unlooked-for progress.
For me, it´s sloth,” I say. “Hedonistic sloth and escapism.
The marriage is over; counseling is the eulogy. The relationship autopsy is the wake.
My mind floats like ash. I blame myself most cruelly.
I am going insane. Yes. That is what´s happening. Good. Insane.
The snag about marriage is, it isn´t worth the divorce.
I played possum. I did this, as the possum does, out of fear.
Such silence has an actual sound, the sound of disappearance.