I sit here in an open field
Entombed by darkness
Letting it all wrestle.

The void accommodates my mind
Within it, I project
And fill the space with emptiness

With ephemeral thoughts
The sickly convulsions of a tattered mind
I ruminate.

I’d see some respite from it
But it indulges me
Those thoughts

They replete me
And ensconce my heart
In palpitating sorrow

So tangible, so visceral
So definite, so concrete
So finite.

To fill this bounding field
And cover me in shadows
To construct my ultimate demise

So that when the moment passes
I am final
And still alive.

6.VII.23