Sometimes it feels like the only way out is the river between here and there. Out, into oblivion.
Dismal?
You wouldn’t know.
The end is devoid of everything, it embodies nothing.
End this dreaded descent, where is the heart of this pit?
The faces that gave life cannot be forgotten, this gift never sought now an unspoken bind to a lifelong compulsion.
Crippled under your thumb, extend your desperate fingers around my voice and extinguish the lights that will haunt you.
An escape in which its sweetness romanticized, find comfort in lies.
Conviction, now an old friend, won’t even commiserate;
Left me in destitution, silent desperation the appointed warden.
Rest stakes a claim over an apprehension you could not understand, call me a liar but you’re forgiven.
Anticipation may have put the notion to sleep, but given a quicker way I probably would.
Atonement without change, sentiments lose their worth over time, after bloody time.
How are amends made by a broken existence?
This façade may hold, though it thins with one weary lie after another;
The sleepless stars pray for rest in the chaos beneath your skull.
Voices that taunt you to bleed, they aren’t real, just ghosts of your self-abuse;
Screams uncried leave behind quakes in pursuit of silence behind closed eyes.
