Dark and drooling it slides over me and I watch the fog appear, lack of light dread of night and I am there. Tears of sadness overwhelm me as I sift through the madness, bleating for an anchor in the wind, grasping to hold the thoughts of tomorrow
and the sorrow takes me.
Sinking ever inward as I die again,
slipping from this world of despair,
to be alone.
The dryness of my tears cannot express my joy.
I am lost like a little boy crying for comfort not to be found,
the thoughts too profound to comprehend.
Agony and torment are my mind and soul on this woeful path,
reeling relentless riot reaches round me
and surrounds my unreliable existence against my will…
still I go on.
The stench of evil wafts deftly into my nostrils as fear arises
and the anticipation of death grows sweetly appealing.
Oh, I desire to lay upon my grave and take leave of this world of pain…
the freedom of death grows to a swell…
Tim on 
Roy Proctor on 
Rhoda Edwards on 