Pensive, Lurid

Torrid, Abandon

I reflect on my defenses

And reinforce my fallen fences

But the wretched lure procures

A year’s worth of offenses

In a tiny little sliver of time

Beating once a month like a

Metronome of devastation

And here I station myself

Inured to the folly I’ve endured

Without ever keeping word

That future Marcus will abstain

I say I will, but don’t refrain

I can’t explain the pain that rains

Down like a train, colliding

With my brain —

The baleful refrain

That is my bane