And I am tortured by regret,
things I've not done yet.
Thinking this defines me.
And I cannot deny
that I'm terrified
of fading to black.
I used to cherish every doubt--
now unsure in what I've found:
my instability was transparent
and now it's apparent...
And I now keep the lights on,
lay in a cold bath until warm.
My lips, so purple and svelte,
have sealed all I have felt.
And I stay a static transplant,
a homely nomadic infant,
stumbling towards the abyss,
thinking it's what I've missed.
I used to utilize the past,
stretching time, but at last,
the only fire I've consumed
will soon fade to black...
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 5:02 AM UTC
And I am tortured by regret,
things I've not done yet.
Thinking this defines me.
And I cannot deny
that I'm terrified
of fading to black.
I used to cherish every doubt--
now unsure in what I've found:
my instability was transparent
and now it's apparent...
And I now keep the lights on,
lay in a cold bath until warm.
My lips, so purple and svelte,
have sealed all I have felt.
And I stay a static transplant,
a homely nomadic infant,
stumbling towards the abyss,
thinking it's what I've missed.
I used to utilize the past,
stretching time, but at last,
the only fire I've consumed
will soon fade to black...
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