I’m walking and it’s dark out – off amber lights sweep past. Everything is dead and silent, save for my steps. My eyes are dim but glowing with blood that is spent and hot, like a bullet. There is scarlet in the grass and vomit on my feet. A moth flutters stupidly. My hands meet my face, but the numbness is set in. Flesh is pale and dead like the haunting lights in the blackness that overhangs. Everything is being consumed. I stop for a moment long enough to realize that I am more than alone, that even the phantom me is long departed. Even a walking corpse has weight, but I pass through empty urban plains with only the shadow of impact. I carry all weight, the crushing mass of nothingness. There is little left to say. The blood is spilt. I open my chest to expose a cavity haemorrhaging vacuity. I gaze blindly and search for what’s left. But this too is futile and I crawl in to die. Death is not final. Pain is forever.

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