The restless music
Unspooling hour upon hour in the home-office

The scrolling and scrolling
And scrolling some more for the cruellest option

The self-doubt chewing at the sanity
Bit by bit

The torment of the assassin trapped
In the prison of his own game

Swiping the screen
To erase the utter terror of self-disgust

* *

You must have an unhappy life
You must have been betrayed
Jealousy must be a swelling tumour in your heart
Treachery the muscles in your brain
The name of your shadow must be bitterness
The smell of your mood must be of carcasses
I believe respect is something you will never earn enough
to balance the budget
I believe no blackness would match the colour of your dank, rancid soul
I shall not pretend and wish for your salvation
I shall not pretend and wish you will scatter wiser
and comforted across the land like the pollen of a flower