Returning to Your Vomit

Dogs return to their vomit, as the proverb says, and you to your poisoned well
To sell your soul once again for a bowl of rancid stew you knew would be foul;
And so you make yourself sick once again and begin again your trek to death,
Smelling the foul breath of the wraith who serves you from his black cauldron;
Will you ever learn and turn away from the sickness ‘n thickness of darkness?
How can it be that you’re still addicted to the demon after being so convicted?
God will not keep applying grace when you’re not trying but lying to yourself!
Yes, indeed, dogs return to their vomit and you to your perverse poisoned well
How long? Oh, how long until you realize who you are and where you belong?
But for now . . . for now you feed your very soul from the bowl of rancid stew!

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