The world hold naught for me but cold and darkness
that overwhelms every aching breath
every agonizing moment of consciousness.
Try to fill it with empty moments of passion
bereft and fleeting
only to be left with a constant anguish of loneliness.
Hovering above, a Damocles' sword of my device,
I wait
and hold each breath as the hair thins and cracks.
Time, I have little,
'fore the silken weapon comes crashing down
to pierce me through a own stilled heart.
The reprieve would not be ill-wanted.
Welcome the darkness,
welcome the pain,
find comfort in a complete malediction of one's soul.