Spawned once more into those realms just too damn well
known,
a single minded jump into unwilling bath of "leave me the
fuck alone".
Ambiguous with carelessness, not quite indifferently
withdrawn,
from every person passion action thought awareness or
reaction,
only waking to grim dusk and leaving at wry dawn.

Going on not quite existent in quite non existent time,
when thought is accidentally risen just to die far from it's
prime,
probably a thought of her or just a thought of things to
come,
quickly forgotten, stored in grimy shelves for further
parting of the self,
or rather, self's relentless and unwavering decline.

Tomorrow only holds within it green and grey infernal
spirits,
doctors of obscene and ancient magic, and it really
scares the living shit out of my dying state of not quite
leaving
all the ghosts behind me,
staring blankly at the ceiling, thinking,
what the hell is wrong within me,
used to be so optimistic,
now I just exist.