Bitter be; bitter me.
          Stricken and mangled
                    by thoughts.
          Bombed and bullied
                    through their circuits of
                              lies.
          Can it be the days
                    that cease my amusement?

Marginal diminishing utility
          in the quotient of
                    happiness and
                              rotations of the Earth?
Or is it the shadows
          that cloud my judgment?
Ringing signs of death
          that we bare not lead to ponder.
Being alive;
          an object called
                    hope
                              that yields will
                                        to puncture opportunity.
Infertile as such
          the word
                    gazes to the stars
                              and gives
                                        only a glance back
                                                  to jest.
Digress and flatter
          for this meaningless laughter
                    you see before you is
                              life.

I see a man looking for something. He paces back and forth.
Must I not go near him as he glances, glares, and gawks at my expression.
His eyes red with hatred but still full of wonder.
Who is this man?
He is dark and shadowy pondering wandering looking for something.
His quest, oh yes his quest, he knows not of his objective. It clings to him like a burlesque of war.
YES! YES! It is clear now this man is confused! He needs to find the path.
But isn't it right there in front of him?
Can he not see it?
Why is he so confused?
He is not blind.
I shout to him but he only interrupts me.
This stubborn *** of a man interrupts me while I'm trying to help him.
Why can't he see that?
I'm only trying to help but his pride it is his downfall. I must not give up.
I shout again only to be interrupted once more. He mocks me with his timid expression.
I should **** this man but must I be the better man and walk away?
Yes I will do just that and let him suffer in his wondering.
My reflection fades as I walk away.

You. Yes you are looking for something.
It seems to be much plight and ponder but it escapes the lips and mind.
The agony oh suffer bare but be with me to dare the dream of my steps.
Can you tell? Can you kiss? Can you plunder?
All but naught for the agony that I seek and suffer on.
But you are still there hunting like a dog and it's tail
Suffer on for you will only end with tragic fail.

No longer do tears rain down but blood that bitterly flows inside the tear drained eyes.
Holding thee as one can; an embrace of a, hope/loss, enigma.
The wounds, all too great to heal, of the last breath taken together.
Carrying on in a daze shuttering and cursing life itself.
"No!" The mind cries out to make sense.
This unfair sight of watching the broken body wither.
Black fills the air. But death does not pity nor spare sorrow.
Mocking the only value held so tight.
The clasp grows tighter, as if to squeeze the life back in, but to no avail.
Death does not undo. Solitude surrounds with it's mimed walls of truth and destruction.
As forever passes itself through, what most would call, moments the gaze becomes fixed upon absence. Blood runs down the cheeks as hell burns and sings the ****** lullaby of serenity.

My insides rot and wither to dust as I lust and must go on to infinity.
The world blows by in riots of fire and ice chills my veins to keep me alive.
I strive as I try to show the world that it will only burn once it finds connection.
From that to the grave I pave the world with these words I display.
I am in a frame, of time to see a whole point but not a picture, a victim seeking blame.
Schema slows to a halt and it is not I who can foretell your future but the stone path you forever seek.
For regret; my latitude and reason conduct a storm of eternal pain to conflict the living.
It lasts to make my pleasure and stave the tears I cannot shed for a characteristic called pity I cannot gain.
My faith in surviving the day concludes my simplicity and anxiety, a river chasm, free of nothing.
The chains that drag me through the world as I set fire with friction, screams of agony, and euphoria.
I envy those who want nothing.