Depths

So I sit and bleed across this stupid paper
Like a blind cretin, spilling his morning joe over himself
Cumbersome and aimless
And devoid of function.
Suns rise, and rise again
To cast their accusing light across the reaches of my sight
And crucify me to
The surfaces of white picket-fence idealism
And parade me around like a carcass
Revelling in this filthy love affair with my own demise
I gain no deeper knowledge of myself
Only
I tread the black waters of a shoreless sea
And I catalyse the spasms of an ever-growing entropy
So the wait goes on
To join the ranks of the departed
To feel the hands of the divine reach into me, again.