Slither back to defunct, to the solace of your turmoil. I'm sure you will be fine with your slick screen of memory. It will keep you company as you run from reality. Ankle deep with no where to turn but up, I pause; in disbelief, in awe at what thrashes around my regret. But you keep on running, spewing lies and malcontent. The poison is your partner, with you so long you don't notice the cut it makes and takes, leaving less and less.
I am tall and fine here, the level lowers and I am dried from you and the liquid I was trudging through. Tomorrow will be fair, the next better still. The fog was thick today, not so tomorrow.
Broken today will be merged, blood spilt will suck back in relief. A scab you left, a heart now healed, a soul now free from your toxic repetition.