Life drips the floor, even if only
proverbially speaking as the
shadows of night overtake me.

I see not now what once was
the light, but the darkness that
shrouds all that surrounds me.

Drink this red that flows from
these veins in gesture, a hope
that falls faintly to the floor in
death so perhaps thine eyes
just might see ... me.

I yearn for death now, as I
wander the shadows of this
shell of a life. All thoughts
leave me wondering if this
is truly the lot chosen for me.

Is this merely the death of me?