Echoing, echoing. My howls rebound from the void.
Not even the all consuming spanse of nothingness desires feast upon heart’s laments
Dejected, I am alone.
Where can one such as I, one from whom all shy and to whom all cast their backs, find even a breath of solace?
For a single breath of peace is what I crave, nay, what I require.
I think that I could continue on with this wretched and scattered existence with a single breath.
Or maybe I am mistaken.
Perhaps a breath would fan within me a more consuming hunger.
One which wishes to seize all air, abscond all breaths, until my fire burns out, leaving only dying embers in its wake.
Maybe that is the only fate left for me;
My fate is to devour all who would not pardon me even a glance of acknowledgment.
Ravage these abject lands, leaving neigh but cinders in my wake.