I continue to dwell on thoughts, as I have done since I was young
The thoughts of my past and present, the thoughts of the reality, the fabricated
The fixation on the obscure, all of which giveth no answers
Trying to find solace, perhaps in a system that doesn’t exist
And knowing that the obsession, forever mine, means nothing
Can you bleed it out in order to make a case for your sanity?
Hours lost in research, in curiosity and in deities, all that is worthless
Why conjure thoughts, hatred and love, based on only witnessing the nothingness
The emptiness will tear us apart, once all is told through our lack of significance
Consumed in the bleak, the bleak has consumed, nothing is left, but the grand adios.