I see them coming at me all the time,

Lashing out, killing me over and over again.

And I laugh for I enjoy all the deaths that I receive,

The pain and destruction of my flesh,

Killing me over and over again.



The blackness still comes, forever killing me.

I rock back and forth, staring through.

The blackness which slices through,

My scarred and dead flesh, yet still I die as I see my skin shred.



Dead again and still I stare at the blackness which is still there.

Have they not yet reached the core, of my flesh so battered and torn?

Maybe I have no core, maybe inside there's nothing.

If so what do I die for?



Staring, watching, willing, killing,

Seeing, dreaming, screaming, screaming,

Killing, killing, killing, killing:

Willing, filling what wasn't there, emptiness my despair.



Stuck, unable to move off my chair,

Rocking back and forth, with no eyes, yet still I stare.

At the blackness which is always there.