Lying in the darkness that has engulfed me,
Surrounded by the black,
With nothing but a shallow candle to aid me away from total blindness,
The Silence eats me whole.
In my wretched insomnia,
I weep.
Weep for the lost dreams,
the nothing that I had created,
the nihility that I had become.
Tears roll slowly off my face
like the final prayers at a funeral,
or the frozen blood slipping from your icy veins.

My hope is just a sliver of pain,
creeping up my spine,
throttling me by the neck.
Just a narrow chalice of light at the end of a seemingly endless chasm of cold stone.
But in all its mighty eloquence,
The brightness is rapidly fading,
failing to reach out to me.
Within precious moments, the articulate splinter of white is dead.
And so, the Silence eats me whole.