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