worn out

Death of Words

Words crowd my head

Tangling themselves

Just behind my teeth

Which bite them in half.

They die on my lips.

All my good intentions

Lie in ruins, wrecked,

Let me sink into the depths,

Let me slumber until

The end of time's beginning.

I long for numbing cold,

I tire of feeling,

Of feeling anything at all.



View reilamorello's Full Portfolio