When I let my mind wander it often dreams timelessly
Creating vast wastelands of impossible concepts and places that never existed
A junkyard of delirium and broken hearts

Lately it's been dreaming of the realistic and dark
Fantasies and a gravitation towards the fate of the spiteful

It always starts with tears, and screaming
I punch at the walls setting fire to my domain with each strike
Ripping chunks of aortic valves from my sleeves with the fury of a rabid wolf

Then once all has settled and I sit in my piles of ash
I sob
It isn't like the first time
There aren't any screams
Or the thudding of my bloodied and stained hands against drywall and wood
Or the thundering echoes of each heartbeat ripping apart my eardrums

There is only a soft
Drifting and muffled sobbing containing more pain than the mass graves of my ancestors

Then it stops

A grunt
A crash
A choke
A gasping and struggling sound escapes my throat
Despite the belt wrapped around it trying to pin each cry and plea to my neck

I float
Like an angel watching silently over the world encased in my tomb
And as the sun rises and sets
and rises and sets
and rises and sets
and rises and sets

Only the moon will know what atrocity I have committed
In defiling my soul and beliefs
And turn my back on hope once and for all