My shattered utopia
Can only be restored with
My self as burnt offering

My shattered utopia
Can only be restored with
My self as burnt offering
Are others’ minds like mine? Do
They whir with fantasy, then
Screech in harsh accusation?
The love of your kin spreads its
Virulent tendrils into
My spine, draining my spirit
Every day is just like the
Last; desperation flashes
Through me; I swallow, again.
I’ve lived too long, and
Seen too much. My bones
Ache for rest and peace
Waiting to hit rock bottom,
I continued to fall, through
Infinite space, faster still
This is only a
Poor substitute for
A real, vital life
Talking to you is just such
A waste of time, yet I keep
On doing it and feel worse
If you should spurn the gifts of
Your fathers, you will swim in
Open sea without tether