A nebulous hope on the silhouette of horizon.
My redeeming font , one sweet poison.
Slowly it obliterated  me ,
branding with ache of reaching.
The ashes of my nous shouting and screeching.
Left with repugnant psyche of an undying hype.
Resplendent hysteria of an antithetic type.
Is it the verity or  nebulous dream.
Is it the silence or vociferous scream.
The part of me desists.
The part of me resists.
To walk the path that leads to decay.
Holding the faith with doubts at bay.
What do I do , to overcome this interlace.
May be I spiflicate the existence , and
   live as Inanimate* .