Let me suffocate.
Where can I get lost, can hide from all of them, the me.
An abomination of words that you and I speak, it’s so damn difficult to think.
Void screams, my voice is swallowed into emptiness.
Ancestral demons obsess, present state, reality.
Occam’s Razor sidestepping the primitive sophistication,a phrenic dissention.
Grains of sand condemn, their narrow descent anticipating interim before the hourglass jerks
with indications of murderous encore.