The end is nigh;
You are so surreal
In mine eyes.
I grasp at your
Fading image
Into the dark.
The dead lark
Croons of healed
Wounds, infinitely
Gushing blood.
Winter's stillborn bud.

My power over you
Succeeds all that is
Real, bound by blue -
Black chains bandaging
Your callow wounds.
I cry for your soul,
The gaping hole.
In your bliss
You miss the sentiment,
The cusp in time,
Your silent crime.

How you cannot see
I do not trust,
But you squeal in glee
As if blind to the virtues -
The Fates pity your kind.
Euphoric trips you renounce
For what? Mere ounces,
From the corrupt - a lust -
Of degenerative acceptance!
You've lost all,
Hide in the null.