You can't unknow a thing;
Forgetting is a fleeting fiction.
True terror
lingers deep
under every dereliction.
When I think back to the nights
in the burbs throwing moltov tennis balls
and hopping fences of the richest homes,
I wonder how I've sold my soul
for such a small morsel.
Am I
incapable of empathy?
My solipsistic tendencies slowly subside
as I casually deride
the essence of your personal pride.
I can say that I am sorry,
but I can also say that I am an elephant.
I can believe that I am sorry,
but I can also believe that I am good.
I am a fool;
I sold myself for peanuts
because I knew you were allergic,
but allergies are hereditary
and epinephrine is expensive.
At least, now, I suppose,
I can afford it.