Sub Hunt

Sometimes you can convince someone you are worthwhile
Looking back and trying to count the wins & not just the utter failure
So I listen to self fantasy again and read the words again to get me there
I circle around it, a zero-shaped island
Whatever helps dissolve
Once Sub Hunt blips and pongs with the scotch. I am in the East China Sea
A target three hours closer to dawn, I’m in Germantown, I’m in the Bay of fucking Fundy.
I know nothing of chemistry, just that there is
And that things can be Not about you and me, but about science and space
Often chance, waxing and waning of production and entropy.
Shame is selfish, knowing it doesn’t help. Just penalties on top of sins.