Anxious Plans

Lost to ambiguity,

I’m nothing.

Obstacles with no substance

nor logic conquer all.

Circumstances are conspiracies.

My anger’s self-righteousness

must win the war.

All in life plans to witness

my reactivity and self-destruction

because, of course,

the world revolves around my demise;

saying otherwise is a risky lie.

Lost to ambiguity,

I’m a loser

blaming others

in the midst of the evidence

revealing that my past

isn’t synonymous with my future,

but relative to present pain.

I’m a hair trigger without a cause

accusing whoever fits my narrative

because, of course,

the world revolves around the demise

of my beautiful, creative mind

sewing fiction with pain

time after time.