Despair grips me mercilessly with grotesque gnarled fingers.
Seeking a space within me , insistent and probing, the inky lap, lap, lap of a desolate and black sea, against the feeble shores of my ravaged mind.
There is little resistance,  my soul has become weary.
We dance a bleak and bitter waltz once more, until a familiar velvety darkness encompasses the space in my head entirely.
Often you show up here,
So frequently  that we have become old friends, strangely easy in each others company,
Our union born from a nothingness world

The hell that has passed before as meaningless as the space that lies ahead. 

  • Author: Camille (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 13th, 2024 11:42
  • Category: Spiritual
  • Views: 3
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  • Lorenz

    dagger poetry at last !

  • Ellen Marsell

    Great writing!

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