Dark, silent, full of wicked intentions,

my mind is in a whirlwind,

so many tortured anticipations,

pausing on a limb

waiting to unlish the grief,

guilty waters rush up to my skin,

my body waiting, my sin brief,

I feel the shawdows sinking in

one more breath and I'll be there

wanton and visually impared,

wicked intentions ever present

I lean into my wretched decent

a twisted soul beyond repair,

looking inward; I know whats there,

nothing clean or pretty or glamorous

its evil and sour, and covered with glare

nothing good grows;

Not there.......