Through the center of the cavernous waste
rises a pulsing coil of filth and hate, twisting
around the remaining shell of the being
convulting the living into the half-awake

bending down, my eyes touch the ground
tendrils of idiocy grasp at my iris
thread through my skull and into my mind
the vine of indignity entwines the consciousness

ignorance, valor, hate, and putrid softness
the mantra of that which rots my insides
creates into myself a hole of hell
a reach within the dimensions of nothingness

my chair is the throne of the piles of stones
the inanimate object reins from the dead
once upon the sometime rains down like water
the life once lived is now on ruined paper

sparks fail to shine, the light refuses to boil
connections fail and decay, their memories
fading to a neverending edifice of demise
and the process reaches the height of horrificness

sliding the sheath past the open gates
the truth is within and yet the falseness hates
past glory in the land of blues
the touching upon a sea of writhing bodies and mind

over matter we reign inside the edifice of real
the purpose once tainted now stained, congealed.
whatfor the labor, the hardship, pain
for nothing won, nothing gained.