i have tried
picking at the rust
colored scabs
that dryly cling
to my vacant soul
but all that remains
are flecks of dust
veins gone empty
brittle tubes
with nothing more
to drain
a miscalculation of
tepid coagulation
leaving a statue
to failure frozen
in place.

there is nothing
of beauty
nor of hope
to find here
just a malaise
and never ending
headaches
that drive
everyone away.