The void inside my head
Echoes the barren land before me,
I stroll aimlessly downwards
Along misty paths obscured,
Towards the Shadowlands of
Satisfaction.
Directionless, one foot then
The other I find my way through
Mazes of nothingness.
Slowly raising a single eyebrow, a
Sign of surviving my two-pronged
Crown.
I raise my glass for pleasure
Drink to keep myself afloat,
Ponder without grandiose pleasure
I think to keep otherness without
As I find my infecund throat
Forsaken
I grind their pills to powder
The mortal pestle slowly stirring
In a mortar of my scull devised,
Failed and by torment raised
Left to my own devices here
I rise, only to tumble again
I snort the flower of every
Colour combined, the
Winter calls me to the
Child unborn, to the
Innocence โ
Protruding
