And what is it that you want?

To whither away in sorrow
While you wait
For words of such beauty
As to be
Undeniable
And
Unattainable
In their perfection
To fall from your lips
And fingertips,
To thus shake
The foundation
Of all that holds you back?

What is it that you wait for?

A noble cause
To tourniquet the prospect
Of a mundane life,
Locked away
Amid
Dirt laundry,
Empty packs of cigarettes
Contemplating
A declaration
Of independence
From all the same old shit?

What is it that you hope for?

A day without embrace
Of loneliness
In the memory
Of a lost
Lover’s touch,
A rebirth of something
Sacred
And gone,
Recurring dreams
To finally
Tell you
What they
Mean?

What is it that you want?

Because as for me
I desire only
A swift
Descent
Into nothingness
And a brief
Moment of
Silence.