Hours perennial
Memories indelible
A life abridging
Its final expiration

Diminished to his state essential
Whenever enough achievable
An ineffective work of impairing
Every sight of pleasure

And this reality - narrowed down
to bringing harm and being harmed -
became nothing but an urge to strangle
Every surviving breath still unsilent

And amidst the crawling of every season
No difference can be discerned, between
winter fallings or dying summers
eyes still living or those six feet under...

You envision yourself torn
In the moment of your acknowledgement
of unworth

You gaze at the window
with eyes that affirm no commitment
to time

Organisms covered in flesh
Flesh supported by limbs
Body effectively in sync with expectations

Do you expect, at all?
Do moments cross you by
Unhurriedly so you can reach them?

Have you ever not seen under inertia?
Is the concrete luring enough
for attainment?

The living moves toward your vision
They perceive you in all your realness
and all you can offer back is blurred conception

The ache in face of the unavoidable conclusion: to
substantiate those who in your inside dwell
is to open the door for destruction

Come back to the shadows
He whom shadows move towards
Shut the charonic gate forever

Rivers of uncertainty under doused
Decaying prophet - disintegrating will
Nothing shall remain spared or untouched
Turbulence has reached its peak primeval

Perishing for a last attempt to grasp
Frenzied and decaying beyond all reach
Strew the heart's fringe to fool the weak
The nimbly chanting song of my depletion

Limbs devastated by each appearance
Crowds deceiving the sense of company
Smiles terminated by inward inanition
An inner call for the death of substance

Skin devouring skin under desolation's arm
Crestfallen before claims of insanity unavoid
Tear the temple of god¹, tear the flesh apart
The voice within declares as the breath of life dissolves

Where does your soul reside
When your heart is feeling cold
When your silhouette is nothing more
Than skin-bared shame impossible to hide

Is it worth to wonder
Should we try to feed our head
With silent calm paving our ways – or
nurture waves wholeheartedly overwhelmed

These lungs were born to meet doom and dark
But they now start to succumb at broad daylight
And while senses choke a dream of life, every breath fails to introspect
A single solid reason to persist its own act