He fell in.

He fell in.

Years of dancing around the edges and flirting with false senses of moral resilience and immortality, such daring made his succumbing all but eventual and indeed, inevitable.

The fall broke him in so many places he hardly noticed, as quickly, its many promises of hedonistic freedom and bawdy heathenry which, like me, had long lured him, were now magnetic opioids blurring his pain with fantastic new pleasures and emergent lies which laid just beyond his newly found recognition.

Highly demanded by those who’d fallen in before him, the purity of his soul was rabidly consumed until he sold each remaining small piece of his best self for promises that no longer came true and relations that soon regarded him simply as just another one who’d fallen in as they once did, ravenously hungry and blind.

From one who escaped to one still imprisoned, I wish you freedom and resistance and feel all your pain of which you are now utterly ignorant and numb.

I miss who you once were, and who you may yet become again.