The Encumbrance

I image you,
As you guzzle that infusion,
I spectate why you're back to it all over again
What was so tenacious?
That made you contemplate it was all right for a second time?

One more won't wound,
Not like the past.
Did you consider you could regulate it at this stage?
That your motivation be resilient enough?
Were the verses you dribble at us not upsetting enough?
Were the anxieties, the Ativan bouts you were placed on, the cantankerousness, the horror, not sufficient for you?

I image you in a puddle of your personal bile,
Your associates and kinfolk deplorable
And saying no one knew how immoral you were.
Deplorable, if we had recognized, we could have assisted him.

But I identified.
I recognized about the feelings,
The quiet aspirations inside your skull.
I discerned, and I did zilch.
I want to scream out,
"Nevertheless this is just how he desired to go, laughing in a puddle of his personal bile.
 As an alternative, I say the merely sympathetic confrontations I have.
Your confrontations, the only object you could contemplate about in those last moments.
Whatever to make the agony go away forever.
Whatever to discontinue the sobbing.

I recognize the reality.
I lug it with me, by yourself
I'll not ever convey to a single person.