last man out

I sit and in my heart I feel nothing, anaesthetic worn free, now a just sinking, sickening. Fear of death and the urge to destroy grow in me, quell thyself, then again rise given time – indignance, pain mere constriction of the chest. Carry fearless anguished memories of doubt and with final bound cast lifeless amidst coals what vestige of goodness was left, to grow through pain and failure to be grateful that in all other areas of life I have been blessed, except in this, silly girls getting played the cause for affray.

Is there no hope, only the next fight? Forged by fists through rain of fire, drowned in blows what might is shown beneath lights quick measure to quiet torment within. No home, no girl, no fam’ly – free of worldly ties – able to see, despite lengths to which we maintain ourselves in this material realm, only fruitless effort and decay. Surrounded by jealousy and between, permeated by it, all things being temporal they say, and in this world thou art alone.

Without way to reach further meaning I spiral dusk, descent below teeming waves, resentment of things overcoming eyes which have been lit, many waning moons and rising suns again alone, and left to face Life stark reality without raft or plank to lay. I wish peace and happiness for all, my own follies having left me estranged from either. Fear me, for I am without precedent amongst men. These words heal me, as much as violence is the art of regret.

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