Rotted Vile Hole

There is no hope. There is no help.

Longer than the usual have weathered the wear, each moment something to be selected and discarded. One foot in front of the other, watch life curdle and die before innocent eyes, what hope can be dashed that has not started inside? It’s where it always is.

Stuck in a mire. Guilt. Time and time again the message is lost against the bones they fall on, the need replaced with the desire. One person lies, the other smiles. The other again smiles ’till death. See it lurking? Writing through the thick shades.

Light a luxury, the future holds the lies of all kinds dear- unknown, realized, or otherwise. Familiar faces vomit ugly words as they continue to forget to listen. Apathy realized, there is nothing but a fleeting odor of rot. Hollow and lifeless. Empty and hopeless.

Where is the waiting? Always waiting. Fatigue. Despair. Guilt. Terror as the inescapable becomes accepted. Submission. Envied, spiteful submission. Jealousy.

Hiding where we should thrive.

I’ve lost my patience.

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