it is free within the confines of my mind
i have long forgotten its song, yet somehow
I can still drum the rhythm as it
echoes against the cell bars of my skull

its throat groans - yet still no sound escapes
neither joy nor pain is exempted from
the blockage of stale unmoving air
and lukewarm blood

songs rot in its belly, dead music adorned
rot bellows its song, rough and uncouth
and most of all,

it climbs up the nightingale's mouth,
an air of forced silence
the death of inspiration

i wake up with Stagnancy in my bed
another morning, yet the same day
the rays of sun tear into the room,
ripping open pools of white on his face

he pays it no mind, his hands
clutch my Adam's apple like plucking
fruit in an evergreen garden,
where nothing grows so nothing dies

Constancy begs me to stay, pleads me
to never leave, shuts the blinds
so the hordes of bright people and
brighter voices stay outside our
unchanging paradise

they call him bullish names, they
say he's complacency, laziness
say he's "wasting my potential"

but I've found greater peace in him
than I ever have in the multitudes
of mornings and infinite days
that I never want to experience

so I'll wake up with Immutability
and go to bed with Invariableness
I'll give myself to him, let him take
everything, let him be everything

another morning, yet the same day.
I wake up alone again.

bury me where the sun can't see
where its rays have never gazed
hide me away in the unknown
never thought of, never thought about

bury me where no breath has been taken
in soil where no root has defamed
a garden where nothing grows
is a garden where nothing dies

bury me like an unwanted memory
like a recurring nightmare, an endless dream
if extinction is forgetfulness' child
then remembrance is my nemesis
bury me where they won't know I'm gone
and where they won't come looking

bury me not like I've lived
bury me not like I've died

bury me like I never lived
and like I never died