HADES BOUND
Popping morphine
because truth hurts, as nothing
can save me.
This is inevitability.
Reality is dawn,
obvious as the sun.
The rays come onwards,
I wake up looking eastwards.
What a cold world we live in,
no matter what season,
hypothermia is chilling.
Tremors and shivers
no fear, no fever
nothing kills faster.
This spherical surface
we grace with grace,
is soon to be transformed into a tomb.
There is enough rough room
for everyone's doom.
The direct opposite of my mother's womb.
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