In the falling brimstone embers
Of the Sodom that is my heart,
My mind vividly remembers
How naïve I was at the start.

Memory sears more intensely
Than flesh and bone could ever stand,
For it sees me kneeling densely
At an altar taking your hand.

Mem’ry replays the tragedy
Neither Shakespeare nor Sophocles
Would durst have e’er written. Wryly,
I count scorching epiphanies

That tell me where I went astray,
And straight into my destruction.
My ideals all have melted away,
Destroyed by false love’s seduction.

My reputation and my friends
Were not so fortunate as Lot.
I claw at my eyes with my hands,
Wishing I and my mind were not.