The words are bleeding out, and pooling into stagnant solace.

The drive-less inhibitions of roads ends, losing me in the after thoughts of my reflections now lost to oblivion.

The stillness is heavy.

Devoid of imagination, and wonder, i am null in the nothing.

Devoid of the spark that turned to fire, i am aware of nothing.

Focusing on nothing unfurling in the darkest of hours, accepting the timelessness, of my limited consciousness, drifting outside of self, through the fruitless branches of my destination unbeknown to me.

All roads leading into themselves.

The means, justifying the ends, as my eyes only but close in settled closure.

I am closer to god in knowing.

In knowing nothing within this dreamless sleep that i keep to myself.

The low humming encapsulating the causeless cyphers of thine own obscurity.

Blurred.

Wordless.

My words are worthless, as they collapse into non-existence, and erupt upon the other side in a foray of images unseen by unlooking ears that peered into the sounds of sights heard, but only once.

Written, but only once.

Forgotten, but only once.

The sun shone but once, and the grass grew over the sidewalk.