Spirit long purged of senses,
Terribly gouged of recollection.
Unaware of being. Beginning.
Seemingly lonesome. Bored.
Draped in malice, linens stained,
Blotted deep with pooling
Insincerity. Blossoming from
Rotted bulbs of torment,
Tracing cold fingertips, driven
To harm. Cannot outrun.
Confrontation desired but,
Shoved into a muddy grave,
With any chance of cleansing
Redemption. Buried. Gone.