Wind whistles straining the tear
Tearing the strain of wind
And siphoning the leisure of my rot
Cycling through my lungs,
The poison stops my mind
It drifts to another
Another of fright
Yet still I breathe it in
Hoping for a change
-Anything.
Why can’t we die yet?
Are we yet worthy
Or has the tumbleweed struck too close again?
Shall I tear my ******* eyes out again
Or do you appreciate the horror within?
Can you never walk without flying?
No more.

Too much.

Nope.