He sits, breathes, lies.
That is it, that is everything.
Not waiting. Not even thinking.
Slumped, sprawled, hardly blinking.
Healing? No.
Resting. Resting forever,
Never works.
Belphegor told him, "Nothing,
Nothing is all it takes."
Mind is dulling, sleeping.
Machines tend, keep him well.
Eyes entertained by colours,
Register nothing, no others.
Hypnotised,
Body is fading,
From sickening undertow.
Why bother working, or living,
When world just forgets us somehow?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment