what ails us?

Watch the Fall….What are we to do?

Painting by Niamh O’Conner

Nothing left inside.

No truth is found in all the lies.

Constant lies that blunt the senses.

Here I sit in disbelief;

Ashamed, lost in thought.

The words lost.

The mind unclear.

Empty space where thought did pass. . .

Now none.

The fall is near.

The road is clear.

We shoot the picture of apocalypse.

Decline; decline; decline;

Whimper–

This is the end.

Hollow heads of men have come to be;

No soul inside;

Lost souls;

Hollow husks of sensation filled with nothing.

Zombie eyes;

Empty husks, no center, no heart, no brain. . .

Nothing.

This is the end. . .

This is the whimper.

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