the SECOND of SEPTEMBER, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY.

void. the void is so profound.
the white-hot, searing pain has subsided.
still, i can't seem to sew my rotting chest up.
my ribs protrude and my heart is bared,
love is blind, they chant. i think everyone else is.
nicotine and ethanol, lust and gluttony.
nothing seems to make me whole again.
my lungs breathe in scorching contamination,
my brain lingers on scorched heaven.

take me back!