People want something.
They deny it,
Push it away.
Scream at it.

Then there it is,
A fist full of glass,
Shoved down the esophagus.
Hand delivered with pride.

Oh it’s so disgusting.
So repulsive.
So beautifully agonizing.

I think I understand now.
No you don’t.
You only get the resuscitation it provides.
You needed it.

It doesn’t matter.
The end result is always the same.
The origin never gets credit for credence.

Decadence in the last sigh replaced by your first breath.
Discredit your enlightenment if you must.
That one breath will always be mine.