Living to Die

Self explanatory

The crime is living,

not surviving,

the poltergeist

of dead anger

thrusts its thumbs

into my eyes,

gouging,

making me blind,

long enough

for concern.

So here I sleep,

restless, fitful,

full of fear.

Nothing matters

anymore.

Life has no real meaning

as I sink deeper

into the cesspit

where breathing

is hard

and believing

is nigh on impossible.

And me, I am stuck

right here in this bloody

mire, unable to extricate

myself.

 

04/01/24