Not You, Not Me

You tell me in no 
ambiguity to hold on the solitude. 
Life was overrating the return 
of a prodigal saint. 

In wet distance 
would you plant the seeds 
of spiritual lockup? 

Was it not two timing? 
Riding on the waves 
and starting roots music? 

Shot in the back 
of head, you wanted to die quickly 
being sincere towards life. 

Self-abandonment, 
it were you, which was, for 
what it was not. 

I am counting the tongues 
of flames, licking 
the acid burned virtues.