Again the thoughts go traipsing through the squalor, the spent senses, the used up feels. Again the glasses are smudged and the vision is poorly, the strain to see almost worse than the strain to say, the assorted pains and the day to day. Written off at last, extinguished in every realm. Nothing but the growing pain, the looming void.
Just another game to play, just another bit of gossip, something to pass the time in unfocused cruelty. The wicked ways as old as time, as practiced by ancestor and antecedent alike. Tease and shun and gloat of all your righteous ways. The reckless offender gets their comeuppance beaten into them, punchline after punchline. When it finally gets around to you, don’t be surprised by the blade.
Annihilation and erasure. Neglect and exile and disease. The days aren’t worth the waking and the nights are unspeakable at best. More words though the words aren’t worth it. Nurture never there when you need it, and nature never gave a fuck.