Congested sinuses hiding the rot,
The body breaks down in a place he forgot,
Aerogel,
A wicked smell,
That erodes a living, breathing man- who consumes by drips this draught,

Admittedly ashamed that things won't seem to turn around,
Looking backward at the past when love and promise were abound,
Oblivion,
Would be a sin,
So the memories linger like a faded abstract whose full text will never be found,

Dreaming of a day without this shoulder ache,
That drives me toward a spinal break,
The cruel distractor,
My work's detractor,
Compensating for this strong dissociation where I sleep when I'm awake