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.