carrying the entropic effects of survival is difficult for the nonliving. measuring the weight of all the unresolved pain in the existential mirror is daunting, it's overwhelming. every day has the ability to scar so deeply that it'll make that natural smile feel like every toothy crest is practically bleeding.

a history of pain plays on repeat in the mirror, the spirit of life twitching to the muted rhythm of a dead dream. shadows take on the shape of the mist that flickers before you, like the formless shades of a forgotten moment.

at my tomb will lay a stack of nightmares. boundless, iterative echoes of being lost in a burning labyrinth. i do so enthralled. a prisoner is ever alive by torture's reckoning. never awake enough to scream, always one evanescent exhale from the eternal sleep.