When death becomes me
I wonder if it will let me be
Or perhaps it will make me reap
While I refuse and unabashedly weep

To embrace a nullity of existence
Yet clasp a heartbeat of resistance
The end is not the intention to become
But the fade into oblivion

Death does not become me whilst you tell me of your troubles
And I want nothing more than to pass that pacification onto you
Yet I interject with anecdotal historic battles
And barren attempts at succor while I misuse
My conviction, your confidence in me dwindles
And my intention fails to break through

Hoping to save our collective sanity
Compelled to contradict our comparable sorrow
I don’t say these things to serve my vanity
I say these things to let you know that I know

Broken in second-hand silence
Passing obligation with idleness
Your role became manifest
Your dark infantile conscience

Buried me in hesitant remorse
Before my own crashing course
Collapsed my own self-made concourse
And left me with naught but self discourse

I thought you knew my hollow
I thought you felt the echo
Of silence, when really your hallowed
Passivity became your ego

The vacuous misery I became
When too young to remember the flame
That was scorching whatever joyful acclaim
I could never have overcame

What gave my hollow its first substance
Yet I rebelled against its abhorrence
And sought for some analogous significance
That I mistakenly thought might be our resonance

I thought you knew my hollow
I thought you felt the echo
Of our silence, when really your hallowed
Passivity became your ego

I don’t want to die
But this void won’t be denied
The cavernous plan I occupy
Is not the make-believe chamber from which I once revived

Your begotten heart I once glimpsed within my own void has become a token to feed my insomnia

I never wanted to love you
But my desire was never controlled through
My own logical taboos
I know not how to silence the emotional resonance I construe

Your silence becomes another token to feed my insomnia

I no longer know how to beckon your conversations
I no longer can push away the emanations
That only push you further away from me, my calculations
Yield nonsensical results from whatever castigation

I bury within my soul
And thus I admire all these tokens you’ve built to feed my insomnia

As I long for sleep but it will not come

There are no windows here
     There is no light
Save the impassable open door
     It is here I will remain