Me, My pen and Misery

I write to live
To be immortal
To leave my mark in misery
Misery being the earth itself
Misery being constant
But i feel myself dying
Myself and my pen

I can feel the air thinning
Measured by vases of light like speed
A machine of antagonizing odds
I’m going to the grave
For sure
My self and my pen

Misery has deserted me
The one true love that men always had
The magnificent slayer of monotony
It’s all so surreal now
A Montage of grotesque sighs
And meaningless signs
Signs with deliberate incoherence
It’s dead
My pen is dead
It’s being deserted by misery
Hence its death

Misery left
It just left my soul
Exeunt me


3 thoughts on “Me, My pen and Misery

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