The hole inside me metastasises into an abyss.
Depression, pulling me in like a gravitational wave.
I am fractal self symmetry
In liminal time.
Crystalline structural regret.
A lattice net of nihilism.
My empty empathy.

I am the metaphysics of melancholy.
The sacred geometry of sad.

That constant self doubt
Burying itself into my fermented mind.
Embarrasses me with reflections of my true self.
The colour spectrum of listlessness
Depression in poly-chrome
Anxious in stereo.

I want to leave wherever I am
In right now.
I want to run until my feet are ground into ****** deformed stubs
As one more blood sacrifice of self inflicted wounds.
I want to flee from the routine of this place into
Another lonely run down town,
Covered in dismal dust.
An oddly familiar place
I hope I get used to.
Before I leave again.

If I run from my memory
With tickets made of drugs.
I won't have to face another disappointment.
Another bad choice.
If I perpetually construct my life
With new place names
New hidden places
And new roads signs.
All leading to maladaptive coping mechanisms.

The paths always lead nowhere
Paved with the regret of missed opportunity.
I hear that faint spectral call of the horizon
And I cry about the setting of the sun
From the perspective of, another, brighter place.

As for promises
To say goodbye.
I make none
And just fade away into the ambience in the background
White noise of passing cars on the highway.
Another couple feet treading a path
Through temporary homes.