With(out)

I know those moments go so slow. We don't grow without them. Bones below the surface show we know those hold our pattern. Scattered ashes in the river. Disasters dressed as if it figured. The past with the present sit twisting into a single point that seems much bigger. Consider the evil you'd deliver if it meant for the greater good of all. Imagine the snakes that slither with a smile, just to take from those who took their fall. On a wall that's down the street reads 'you never practiced what they preach.' An inbetween of escape, and repeats. That time we got lost within something self-destructive, and self-constructed. Archaic architecture left for nothing except for a regress of reproduction. A functioning frustration stuck in the crevice of my cranium. Once beloved things punctuating the love of now hating them.