Only when rooted veins get stripped from skin,
Delved from flesh sinking sin,
For darkened nightshade permeates the iridescence,
With tearing clouds of reminiscent melodic pleasures.

Lonely nights become a tangible entity
That lurks upon the edge of night tremored beds.
The promise of potential draws a close,
Curtains strained, contemplate alone.

A conscientious troubling vestment,
Caused by an arrogant caked resentment,
Through words that do not press,
Statued by most ignorant jests.

Language decreed to fragmentary letters,
But a vessel to help forget;
The self-loathing that never subdues,
Reflect upon those uprooted veins,
The bearer of bad news.