As the maw of madness hungrily awaits,

I ponder on jumping feet first

A recurring nightmare disguised as a dream,

Enticing me with promises too good to be true.

I stand at the precipice,

Shaking my head begrudgingly and back away

Only for tendrils to reach up, grasping at cold feet


I want to be nothing

And for my pointless existence to be forgotten.


If only the numbness would spread

Replacing cowardice for stoic indifference

Jaws clack and saliva splashes onto the floor

Drip, drip, drip, maddening in its rhythm

It hungers and yearns for a taste

Once the precipice cracks, there’s no turning back

Fortitude wanes and fatigue waxes in my eyes

One final glance back, but it’s too late

Today was the day the precipice crumbled away


I am nothing

A nameless face forgotten in its inferiority.


Author’s Words for Thought

“In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.” -Friedrich Nietzsche ­