Mud in Glacial Eyes

Suicide.

At the edge of a pit starting into the abyss; I feel the fall of love to the dreary thick lucent waters of surreality .

The dark deep calls to me. A beckoning void of complete desolation. There is no hope.

No respiration; the choking thick smoke of black ichor envelopes the eyes and takes away any sense of light or loveful sound. Deafening silence quakes into your bones as you succumb to inifinity personified. Senseless directionless pit of depravity, why do you love me