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.