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Why are you so angry? Why are you so sad?

Unsurprised,

You let reintroduced animosity sucker-punch you, wanting to like it,

But the hurt didn’t hurt the same.

Why?

Why are you so angry?

Why are you so sad?

Your best friend is lip balm

And the bag of cocaine that you

Told yourself you wouldn’t buy.

I’m worried about you.

Should you be worried too?

But you brush it off

Like a bad day.

Are your

Bones bad or just sick?

They’re all right.

Just don’t serve them to the party.

Why?

Don’t let yourself go.

Don’t let yourself go there.

Try.

But.

There is no try.

Only action.

But there was no action,

Only an annihilating hope.

Hope that you pushed aside.

Because it wasn’t welcome here.

And you started to lie

To everyone again.

But what’s one night of rancid normality?

I don’t judge.

I’m not your parent.

You wish you still had them.

Why?

You didn’t even play by the rules

Of the devils’ playground

Your open hands burned

Under the cold water thrust upon you,

Trying to wash away your sins

The ethereal sins of choice

You still don’t understand the word

Why?

You retraced scars until they bled again

Why?

And the monster bit you,

Needle teeth providing the best you ever had.

Even though it didn’t feel the same as last time.

You related to the biohazard disposal,

Kissing it for luck.

Know that you are loved,

No matter what.

Why?

Hold your breath

And the world spins,

But you’re still here.

Why?

The sweet toxic powder that you relied on,

Relied on for help,

Provided no assistance.

You wish you could cry.

But botanical assassins robbed you of any hydration and self-care that you had left.

Why?

You begged for comfortability from the poisonous king.

But he only fed you untruths that you

Praised in your naïveté.

Why?

Your choices continued to rob the beauty of your soul.

A burglary welcomed by stupidity of an empty heart.

Somehow theft of the self felt more excusable.

Until the morning,

When you realized your solitude was a party for one that you hated,

With your entire soul.

Why?

Life, Elan, world and connection you loved,

A conditional ardency that you wanted to be rid of.

But you continued to sip your blight,

With fervor,

As if you would never have it again.

And even though your heartbeat was angry,

It was gentle.

Something you didn’t understand.

Something you didn’t want to understand.

Because it meant you are still you,

You are.

An intimacy that whispered your self-murders to sleep.

A scapegoat that made your eyes wake in the morning.

Here is where you are,

Here is where you are supposed to be,

You may despise it,

You may detest your existence.

But you are here.

Kiss it better,

My love,

You are stronger than you know. 

Maison Ray
Maison Ray

Denver-based writer. Previously in New York to attend Pratt Institute and develop his artistry. With a self-described “violently pensive exploration of the lucid,” Maison tries to invoke an ethereal relation to the world through his work.

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