Emptiness lies within me.
Emptiness lies without.
This road that I'm walking has frozen.

Voices echo across the throes of time,
reverberating, trapped, they can't seem to find,
an exit.
Voices that time has stolen.

But what is time?
Sands passing from one side to the next?
Slow building,
sandy layers of illusion.

And I'm rotting inside.
There can be no confusion.
Vultures strip the flesh from my bones,
I'm just a skeleton;
walking, eating,