Today I woke up tired yet again
with my brain screaming for oblivion
and fun ways for its existence to end.
The sun tried to enter through my window;
Its warm fingers inching closer and closer to my clenched flesh, and
my dusky pale face, and
the tangle of my limbs
Still unmoving, still prostate.
If only the stupidly kind sun knew
about the gloomy recesses of my heart.
If only it knew how my heart had ceased
to remain a glowing star.
My heart now pumped painful shards of ice,
Instead of boiling red blood
that signified life.
My heart is now a winter wasteland.
My heart is now a greedy black hole-
All the time;
Into the soft blanket of absolute nothingness.