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know that the hours pass and yet I remain;
tormented by the torments of soul and flesh,
I write beneath my own self divined lash
where my regret gnaws at frail beliefs and consciously it reflects, proved by the acidic touches that ravage my breathing, soiling my unwanting tastes.
hate for a life that spawns this apathy,
as it conclusively tries to redefine me
it may soon pass as the truth is drawn closer to, yet now my soul shrinks trying to hide away in seldom traversed places of the mind, falsely all seems to be refined
and I love how the humanity in me easily lies
by accepting half-beliefs behind paling eyes
I cannot discern the lovliness of the next day to come, for it was brought dearly with much from today, that I dare not to remember hope stolen by regrets.
see that these are my platitudes and ironies
tormenting me where consciousness resides
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