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Written when in the midst of a depressing mood. |
Despair; a deep cavernous aching dread. A rumbling emptiness brimming viciously With glutinous blackness. Guts mercilessly scooped out With the blunt, dulled edge of life. A sickening dazzling commotion of Frustrated anger, weary indifference. Desolation’s devouring mites, gnawing at the brain. Exploding hot fury Coursing rapidly through constricted veins Threatening to burst out of fingertips Tightly squeezed into rock hard fists of rage. Exhausted wrath relents then; but beyond calm. Much deeper into cold exhausted stupor, Somnolent blankets wrap suffocating. An immense leaden mass of cloying death, Clogging, choking earth, rammed, pummelled, With the relentless hammers of life’s eternal desolation. Beaten into bruised cowering submission, Fear of waking, breathing, living, Of being alive, wishing, willing, Against the murderous oppression. Begging for obliteration, Beyond even the want of hope, Lest spiralling death ravages once more. The point of being, beyond reason, A mind destroyed with absolute devastation, All lost in welcoming madness. Oh to lie down, to wither peacefully, To wallow in deaths decaying juices, To be released, a mind not knowing, To die. |