The heat and oxygen course through your lungs like a temporary flame

One sweet dull second of numbness

All they can see is an empty vessel; an unstained body, with from the looks of it, not a care in the world

But they are simply decomposing from the inside out

No doubt, they will be a platform of overt despair by the end of the night

The sight will give a writer something to write about, an empath something to cry about, and a lover something to worry about

Destruction is infused in every cell of their body

When it comes down to choice, there is not one

It feels to them as if the days inevitably, and relentlessly, cease to end in the immense amount of pain instilled in every ounce of their being

Dreading tomorrow as if it's a terminal sickness

Once you have lost hope, it seems there is no fire left to burn

The time that they have left in the world will be filled with cheap cigarettes, Irish car bombs, and lifeless friends

Closely comparable to a dying tree; close to expired, and still so beautiful