these human-built agonies
burn with familiar empty rage

the tired tumble
d
o
w
n
the senseless stupor,
numbing the burning sting of a
tear

An ethereal impermanence
Inherent to isolation
Permeates perception.

It drips down the the
Stalactites
Of loneliness,
Pooling inky black,
Drooling endlessly
Until my very end.

Maybe it's okay to sleep
to sleep
to sleep
to dream
to cry
to die
to fly
Maybe this immateriality
is real
is it?
is it
the falsity of fact
that caresses me with
nothingness?
Maybe this softness
this impactless
this empty
imaginary
empty
screaming
screaming hellscape
is good
...
if nothing is real
you cant be touched

Dreams are meant to be sweet
right?
Dreams are meant to be sweet
but I've always hated sleep.

'God,' I ask,
'What else is there, but you?'

'Nothing.' I respond

You're Blind.
But you don't mind
Because you're so kind
Black hair, blue eyes
You won't even try
to try.
So you lie.
And you cry.
But you're not sly
You don't mean to cut
With your devilish strut,
but-
well
      I'm resigned
To be blind.

Capsized

Baptised in soft lies,
Wrapped in easy fears,
He cries.

Crocodile tears