(week)
of wanting to die
which no potential Future
no quantity or quality of Life
of any kind
can possibly justify
Midas reversed
everything I touch
or that touches me
plagued by nausea
post-haste
irritation
frustration
sickening states
of every colour and kind
I can't lay claim
to one single golden nugget
which I can hold on to
through my days of senseless
perpetual movement
inside a void
towards nihil and nada
tears and surging rage
the need to walk away
you and me
dear Empty
dear overwhelming Voice
till Death do us part