The fathomless pit of despair–
is the mind’s blackened lair;
the void in motion, with mist for an ocean;
falling through flesh-hands, like a ghost–
the shol is just a man’s cold mind;
leading a path into a thousand yarded eye–
the disguise–
A soul floats alone, in the cold open overscore–
your heartbeats are the phantom that cries out, nevermore–
War is not war, but just memories waging war–
a lung’s breath is not breath, but just a sigh from pale moving flesh–
the makeshift hooverville we call our ribcage, is just a vacant lot for our hearts–
and given a death sentence–