Thine owned self

Here is a given; it has taken everything I had to lose myself.  What is left does not feel right.  I compose my decompostion in a rotten place, and delay the sense of decay by my putrid behavior.

Things fall apart, the center can not hold anymore.

I rail against willful ignorance, but ignore my own.  Part of a bargain made long ago; based on the presumption that things are unbearable as they are, and changing things is beyond my ability to bear.

Unacceptable and inalterable co-exsist in the cloud of obliteration; clarity obscured by design.