pounding every nook of my skull
blows of might
irresolute, irreverent
debilitating like lobotomy
sectioned to respect silence
bit by bit and bit of bits
stretches beyond truth
resisting the divine
ones sensory deadens
vulnerable
to the noxious world of pretense
what remains then
only thoughts of pleasures lost
and I
I stoop to the nothingness of the void
along with the ebb of time
singularity at its core
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