It seems to me

that every ambition

turns out to be some diamond-

ring-backed rattlesnake that

lures you in-

to chasing it and

the moment you realize how

far you have run and all

you have left behind, it

senses your hesitation,

turns and

strikes.

I got what I wanted,

you realize, at one point,

the coffee mug growing cold against

your concrete palms.

Or if you haven’t yet,

trust me– you’ll know

when that pit of swallowed morals and tongue-

-tied cherry stems hits your stomach and you

can’t help but stare down

that bastard blaming you from

the dirty mirror above the sink.

I got what I wanted.

...was it worth it?