That title just barely fit completely, how's that!
It also has nothing to do with anything I'm saying here, it's just lyrical in my mind.
Wormwood is also the name of some character, who is either a parasite, a badass, or someone I'm subconsciously bringing in from HP.

Anyways, I'm awesome, and feeling better with some new people in my life, quite a loving expansion to my current set.

A spot of poem:
Left in a long forgotten ruin
Of dampened, murky retreat and solitude,
I forget why it is here that I stand.
Was it my own choice,
Or by another's demand.
Either way, I do not rejoice,

I find it fitting to be here.
Such feelings in me,
So close, so dear, whether or not they be cousins of sloth and fear.

Yes, for me I find a comforting familiarity with my little buddies,
Solitude and sadness.

Is hopeless surrender and a grasping wish for escape into the void my greatest desire.

I'd be alone,


and someone would surely be sad.
or mad.

Oh of potential, oh of your brain,
What a waste to cloud it with pain,
To trample it with the Chariot of my owned hastened Desires for Demise.

I flirt with Death daily upon well rehearsed limericks.

I wish he were a she, if only to bring some comfort to me upon my rest...

If the Germans were precise Engineers of Industrialized Death,
No way in hell am I precise at anything, and fuck industry...

So I come to a point,
there is much to be discovered, uncovered, and unveiled.
I am an explorer and a saint for women i love.

But I still have much to unlearn,

Am I too a salve to other desires, of love and affection,
of heart and erection?

There is much to be done, be it fun, be it unclear,
To escape the murk and damp and upon the wings of change,
I must commit,
I must not fear,
And hope I discover a new plan,
And maybe hope for something real this year...

If I even want to.