a last shot into unknown,
dive deep into the soul less ink,
only to impart your own,
perhaps to emerge victorious?

imbue the stale cruelty of the inanimate
with the vivid cruelty of the soul,
bleed unto the mocking desolute canvas,
drawing blood from mindy & body in whole.

a last shot with broken minds,
write words that are not your own
for crazed usbthe hand that the soul hides behind
a battle of thoughts, then all alone.

Was it really anything at all?
These things I write, I can't quite trust them.
Yet I can't trust what I don't write.
It's so easy to get lost
In the _ of  _