utopia is this,

the claimed havoc in saturn

swayed by my air venus that

doesn't alleviate for their thorns.

apathy is long gone, no grief for

the emptiness core in me, but i

i dearth loving and attracting their rainfalls, and they all lack seeing me for me.

all of them lack the implication of passion, do they ever love?

cessation is a road of dirt and collision,

i'm harmonized, to lay on this bed, i become civil, heartless, a muse blown from heavens.

no tears stain my cheeks, but i wonder, if the blood that comes out of my throat;

is my heart pleading for a path or a way out.

sickening thoughts cloud my head, as much as the

infection of bacteria engulfs my lungs.

what have i become?