Suspended vocals laid in the cavern of my chest,
where treasures innumerous,
have sunk and there are no maps that travel so deep.
There are scarlet ravages blistered and noxious of things repressed,
they fester and poison,
such beauty as to leave scars.
Sink into this paradigm of suffering, isolation, and idle punishment,
bind it to you like the paintings of a great man,
hollow and pleasant to the unknowing eye.
Leave yourself spent in this cavern,
do not cling to some passing thing.
Purge yourself of lifes' ponderous illusion,
become lifeless like so many before you.