Void

So just string a couple of complicated words together making it sound like there's some sort of wisdom to whatever you're saying. But in the end, you're just like the rest.

Aimless and empty.
There's something lacking and suddenly it doesn't really matter anymore. When did it ever, actually?

I need something to fill me up again.



“Dying
Is an art,
like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

 It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day
To the same place,
the same face,
the same brute
Amused shout: 'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.”