pleasure game

 

i derive this

peculiar pleasure

from being

unhappy

 

it keeps me

in a holding pattern

locked in place

like a water pump

 

it’s always there

sometimes a need

to bring it up

up to the surface

 

the surface where

things are sticky

and parts hurt

and i get lost

 

in the pleasure

of difficulty

keeping it there

holding it here

 

blame is a bandaid

ripping it off

is part of the game

and no less pleasurable

 

in my deepest

knowing

there is a

point to this

 

and yet the 

delusion

is such a

part of the game

 

unhappy…

like a joke,

goes with

my last name

 

swinging from

the chandelier

emotions and

such all in a knot

 

and yet

the emptiness

pure & utter

emptiness

 

tucked & stowed

so far & so deep

the din of addiction

i’m lost again