The walls of my life are falling apart.
Into the rubble of pathetic despair.

My body starts to fail.
Again.
******* away each fragile opportunity.
Until there were none left.

It gets hard to enjoy things.
When everything gets worse.
My hermit hiki ko mori stasis.
My isolation in my room.
Poignantly hits me.

And,
I am strange and unusual.
Poorly worded
and dumb.

I breathe self loathing.

Shrouded in the darkness of another.
Anonymous night.
Eternal dark, obsidian dawn.
I creep through the brushes and reeds.
To the sacrificial mount.
That the spirits told me were there.
The impulse of an evil God of hidden.
Places.

And,
These delusions can be made poignant.
With good enough prose or ritual poetry.
As my offering of tobacco is accepted.
My austerity of poverty and insanity, reinforced.
I do the dance that comes to mind.
Flaring out my peacoat.
In raven's dance.

I walk the earth with bare clad feet.
As the dirt embeds into my sole.
I become the black foot.
Pale skinny
Satan
Opposer.
The Gaelic gaoler of lost souls.
Wirey, taught, and high tension.

The one who said no.
I'd rather go it alone like Esau Lord.
Find my way in the wilderness.
Castigate the humans.
Too proud to bend the knee.
To an abysmal race bereft of creativity.
I bring nothing.
For you.

And, I illumine you.
I cast my own shadow on the wall.
The light shines out of me.
Into.
The truth in disgust.
The beauty in filth.
The righteousness in rebellion.
I die on every hill.
Kamikaze existential destroyer.

Clad in taboo things.
Dripping in the disgust.
Of the unclean.

I am a beast.

I am filth.

I am a warning.

Don't get too close.
I ******* bite.

Silence.
Here on this particular mountain.
Is deafening.

As I scream to myself.
For sympathy from someone else.
Or even.
Life.

But,
I'm still here in the ditch.
Laying in the grass.
Worn down and worn out.
Sleeping rough in the rocks

And,
No one hears my pleas.
For a meaning to all this.
Suffering.
Not God.
Not you.
Not anyone.

This is the furious rage of being inadequate.
While my scream pierces the sky and reverberates.
In my mind.
No one hears.
One of the few times I've been vlunerable.

Even if they did.
They wouldn't have cared.
What is a hobo to a man, but a moral failing?
At that moment.
I lost whatever faith I had in other people.

Nothing answered me in the depths of my rock bottom.
Scraping the jagged depths of my impotence.
Just the still subtle silence and the wind.
Blowing through my hair.

So I slept in the ditch.
Stopped asking for help.
Woke up in the morning.
Staving off another.

Reminder of how useless.

I truly am.

Abysmal desolation.
Washes over me.
And all I can think.

Of.

Is how peaceful annihilation will be.
As I'm always cast adrift.

In the doldrums of melancholy.

Life?

All this creation has given me.
Is a lust for death.

An end.
To my half remembered.

Mediocrity.

In these absentminded anxious anomalies.
Of thought.
I recede into self doubt.
Rampant overtly critical self destruction.
I am the hypnosis and torpor.
Of far too many drugs.
Far too early.

******* development.
Restricted ego.
And, the niggling doubt.
That I'm good at something.

These nervous neurotic moments are conscious.
An urge of self anihilation
Taboo words.
Forbidden ideas.
Mix with my suicidal ideations.
I am beyond the horizon of self doubt.
I fell into abnegation.

I think
I need some apathetic anti depressants.
To comfort me.
Get me through today.
So in tomorrow.
I can hope that a couple months from now.
Everything won't be so bad.

But that never happens.