within the boundless void of the i
through the filters of endless writings
i slide, oppressively drifting yet alone
i feel divided
is this the blood of a tyrant?
or maybe a prophet’s?
is this vital poison the lymph of a worm?
the fathomless cr*ppy hole of consciousness, i design
like *n*l introspection, falling inwards.
a regression to existence’s upheaved, i cut
the slices of dereliction, tumbling backwards
this is an actor’s debt to reality
offering promises of heaven
while h*ll’s rotten tongues are still licking my mask
falling inside, in vain, seeking with fear
the warm empty darkness of eternal slumber.