Succulent Anguish

There is something so beautiful in daily life

although woebegone, how to describe: petrichor.

Like the anguish,

a ubiquitous feeling throughout my body

I want to exult from within.

When I do, grateful to remedy,

the torment becomes missed

(a comely, rending sentiment).

The devil allures me to forget;

to consume it at night,

to conflate with him in vice.

A painful dalliance lasting for hours

when daylight arises again.