An escape artist to the moments that get to me.

Sometimes I flee and return to the mind scene.

Though for the time being, no being still, suffering the ill- will from the venoms, vampiric essence; the type that inhibits your steady state.

Tipping away while dripping, leaving a stain in the process of the sipping.

Life’s demeaning, in the private, suffering the bloodshed,

the type that only one can imagine.

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