Empty vessels, faded light
In the windows of my ghosts.
Floating past, searing memories
Stained into the horizon.

Slow beats, flickering
Motes of consciousness
Briskly stroll behind and around
The broken road.

Vigor torn from husk,
Holding onto false promises.
Haunting, spines chills.
Shivering at the thought.

Fatal words cut deep,
Warming unquenchable desires.
Grab the scythe
Approach the mantle of Death.