Thought Panic

this perverbial life dawns in the gray skies of tommorow
dieing to a new day of oblique obscurity
as the pleasures of yestersay find solice in the abyss of the blank stare of fate.

should i rise in midnight my spirit leaving my body
i would leave all that is dissapointment thriving behind me
to consume the corpse which is called my body.

fate stares me dead
in the mind yelling threats of tarnished waste upon my body and constipation of my mind.
i sleep as if death were upon me
i wake to see a new day consume me in drury angst.

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