Ghost of another time,

Lost in the dimensions,

Blurred by the difference.

Time has jaded it,

Jaded you.

A spirit so ragged and thin,

It is only a whisp,

Time has taken its toll,

The forsaken have lost their innocence,

This one is only alone.

Only alone.


But something won't let go.

Caught in the snare,

And waiting to be torn to shreds.

Sanity is all that's let go.

Everything else painfully clutches and holds.

All that is wanted is death.

So simple.

Such an effortless request.

Universe wanderer,

Left in the cold,

Doesn't remember it's name,

Flesh is a disease,

Deat is a sweet whimsy,

A lovely thought.

So out of reach.

Out of it's hands by miles.

Screams dry in the phantom's throat,

Tears never to be shed.

Emptiness has taken a brutal toll,

Infinitive scars,

Not taken accounted for when you are dead.

Suicide is not possible,

Though desperately wanted.

No one is there for comfort,

Nothing to claim,

But darkness,



All that is wanted is death.

Then all the wandering would cease,

Seeing nothing,

Feeling nothing,

But not deaf,

Not blind.

Only numb.

Numb to all that is important.

But what is really important?

What are we to say?

Nonentity, though, is all that's left.

A wraith with nothing to hold,

Just to drift through disease,

And listen to the nothingness.

Wraith without a name.

Etches writing in the mist.

Nameless spirit,

Flowing through the realms of a meaningless universe.