Unkempt

A soul and a soul unhitched,
A deep and hearty ache, uncloaked desolation,
Stretched out too thin too tightly.

How much pain can an already pained man endure?

Head still,
Neck slanted,
gently resting,
but there is nothing gentle,
and the rest is disturbing.

These sounds inside, louder than the outside,
with chaos swarming despite external calm.

There is no calm like the delicate decay of corpses,
wilting roses as a carcass,
a cold row of dead bodies,
or of love.

Life is decay,
a sorrowed song echoed between heartbeats,
feet stiff without tapping,
trying but fucking tried.

There was a time for trying,
when trying was being and to be was everything.

Have you ever lost your best friend?

You hope they found themselves,
Because they were never lost,
they just left your side.

What amount of breaths could stop this chocking?

Motivation nullified by extinguished vigor.
There is no motivation.

Benefits of toxic relief exhausted,
There are no benefits.

When the dead remain,
every spark yearns towards nothing.

When I am laid,
I am laid in Earth.

Unkempt.

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