Hollow inside, a broken soul,

I drown in the smoke that fills this hole.

I sit with my life and talk of her role

as she covers my neck with her silken stole.

The time of this meat

suit that I wear,

is withering away

while I sit in my lair.

Our bodies entwined in deaths lowly stare

My life and I, a necrophilic pair.

Our ascension to the heavens may just be a fake

while we fall asleep with each breath we take.

Through broken fragments of a memory,

we realize we’re not what we used to be.

I realize now that my body may die,

my body may die but my psyche shall persist,

long after I cease to exist.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar