Have I reached, the end of the abyss?
Thick, dry humid air, as if I’ve decended
To the highest low point, swallowing it’s pungent breath,
All that once was, has been depleted, spilling sand
Through broken fingers, and watching it weather away,
I dredge my mind, only to unearth the insipid spider,
Feeding off the random streaks of light, snuffed
Into the outer limits, beyond what I can consume,
There is no death, only the stale walk
Around the repetitive process, which melts my strength
And locks me, into a sinking standstill peering
Into the void, leaving behind the evacuation,
Even as I hear the fire, cracking in the distance,
Separating will, from defeat, it becomes an added strain
To the constant emphatic emptiness, dawning
Doubt, feeding it my own thoughts, that expand its stretch,
My mind bears it’s incompetence, through the stutter
Of my empty page because my hand won’t move
The eager pen gracing the openness, that haunts me,
The way forward seems so daunting, all because the horizon
Has been lost to me, for all there is, stews in this wasteland,
So is this the end?
Have I done all that I can?
I fear for my mind, that’ll go mad from wondering
Inside its own den, stuck within the familiar landscape,
Bricked up under the shadows that creep from the past,
Am I doomed to this Purgatory, awaiting no end,
For all that I once held tight, is now flickering
Way beyond the rattle of the gate, and I, a spectator
To life continuing around me, suffering from
The dread of the foreboding, which overpowers hope,
Existence of any inclination of an escape,
Back into the spirited, slips past me and into that terror
I can’t camouflage from, the wasteland is my open casket,
Laying my mind deeper into the murky world,
Nothing left to say,
Nothing left to inscribe,
I’ve told all my stories,
Until I reach this world’s end.
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