damienray

I contemplate the damn and time... with deep inhale, my soul unwinds.
I reassess and reassure... with this disease, there is no cure.
A joke? A myth? A twisted lie?! A vain fabrication... ends with good-bye.
Bitter-sweet torture... Slow suicide. Nowhere to run... Nowhere to hide.
Ask for it, beg for it.. take it all in. Blood rushes faster, head starts to spin.
Throat is constricting, eyes start to strain... emptiness consuming, in sets the pain...

- to be continued