Dying Soul Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Among the grains of the burning sand.
Lost in my own desert lands.
No oasis for far as the eye can see.
So many mirages of what could be.
Allusions portrayed by all the demons inside me.
An island of anecdotal quotes.
Swimming deep in this moat of meaningless words.
Swatting at the dive bombing birds.
So absurd, an assault on every reality I know.
It doesn't matter where I go.
There is no escape from ones own mind.
The tragic decline.
A slowdown defined.
Sometimes you can't go on no more.
Without taking a breath.
Taking a time limited rest.
Hesitation equals the second best.
Will that ever leave me satisfied.
More and more empty inside.
The bottomless pit.
Free falling saying just forget it.
It doesn't not matter.
Question yourself in the third person.
Did it ever?
Multiple personalities lashing out.
How can I escape this tension that binds.
If it never goes quiet or silent.
A competition with my own pride.
A slow conformity to mass suicide.
A trickling heart beat that get fainter and fainter.
Working on become the poorest of painter.
So many metaphors with in the darkness of this painting.
Why is it we can't understand one simple man.
Is it a barrier of distant language, or the lack of any attempt at the basics of communications?
A mural blotted on a brick wall, what does it remind you of.
Does it bring the same vision to your head.
So many regrets as the cosmos are bled.
And of them this is still not one yet
Tell me now can there any more beautiful color then that of red.
Mix and match if you like.
It doesn't change it's meaning.
It describes both the flow of life and death at the same time.
The veins of the growing tree.
Pulsing and pumping.
Pushing and thrusting.
No end to the abundance of energy, even upon it's very decay.
The denying soul grasping for one last body to control.
To hold, to feel, to touch, to consume, to avoid the unknown that is better not to assume.