barren within
hollow and cold
slowly churning
burning
yearning?
for an inevitable end
losing substance
was there ever a way?
ambition
recission
and failed volition
of a vacuous existence
internal wasteland
entrenched and scorched
slowly churning
to scars
returning
the pain to transcend
self-inflicted wounds
growing deeper by the day
deliberate and self-deceptive
from a slightly skewed perspective
reinforcing the cliché
for a lifetime of godsends and hellbents
and wars within wars
the treacherous pain, relentlessly mundane
how come the blackness of my veins?
pale and placid
with a venomous tongue
last incipit
decrepit
and upon bespit
so far, and what for?