Death.
My friend.
Let us make amends.
Bury the hatchet.

For I smell war in the air.
I hear the cacophony of artillery.
Rumbling in the distance.

And, if you'll let me death.
I shall **** as many of the invader.
As you will let me.

Let me die in vain.
Unknown and unloved.
So my ancestors won't weep.

For my cowardice.
I shall bravely march off to my anihilation.
And I hope I go to Hell.
Ontop of a pile of corpses.
Of these savages.

And what is this life.
But the falling of sand.
Through fingers.

Please death.
May I take the enemy with me.
If he comes.

Let me send you lovers.
Into the afterlife.
Til you come yourself.

To get.
Me.

Every night.
I dream I die.
And,
I am reborn in the morning.

I have one foot in that far off place.
One foot in here.

I first went through the ego death.
Of a.
Shaman
At 18.

I channel spirits.
In charnel psychosis.
I am them.
When I act like them.

The mask I wear today.
Is never the mask I wore yesterday.
And, who am I?
Among all these ghosts.

Light breaks softly.
Through the cracks.
I was told was in everything.
But I run from it.

Because it ruins the dark.

I will be an addendum.
In the book of life.
A simple caveat.
That the light couldn't reach.

My own personal.
Perpetual.
Darkness.

And you.
Illuminating my disgust.

I think fondly.
About the end.
Of death.

No more depression.
No more thoughts.
No more failures to be ashamed of.

A still peaceful calm.
That I won't experience.

No loss.
No wants.
No screaming at the sun for everything to stop.
No fear.
No disappointment.
No wondering why.
No socialising.
No self doubt.
No never eating.

And all these addictions.
Will just end.

No one to let me down.
No more discomfort.
No wasting idle time.

I will be and recede.
Into the nothingness I crave.

An eternal dreamless sleep.

Its heaven really.

I am the epilogue.
Of Mr. Self Destruct.
The degenerate who somehow.
Pulled through all the overdoses.
To live unprepared.
Without a plan.

If living on borrowed time was a person.
It would be me.

Failure to die.
Has led to me becoming.
Incompatible with living.

So I eke out a life.
Of nothing.
A lobotomized.
Hikiko mori.

A world renouncer.
Waiting for the reaper.
Alone in my room.

No one will notice when I die.
Til the smell gets so bad.
That they'll know.

I left a putrid black stain.
On the floor.

I'm never up in the morning.
Unless I'm about to go to bed.
And, I prefer it at night.
My life.
In the calm.
Barren.
Streets.
I lay my claim to all the quiet places.
Where I can go alone.
To be by myself.

My depth is shallow.
My mind, fractured.

And, all these coudla beens.
Hit me too early.
In this afternoon wakefulness.

There's a pit in my gut.
But it dies once the speed kicks in.
I don't feel like eating anything other.
Than cirgarettes ash.

The general sense of being.
Unwell.
Is constant