My mind is a dry river bed,
White webbed shit covers the rocks' smooth surface.
No living water or rushing inspiration to be found.
The few trees around are withered and dead.
Birds don't even use them for their nests.
Nothing but domesticated shit and the smell of decay
Surround my barren head.
The Hollow Men told me this would be the way the world ends.
I didn't believe it at first,
But I see it more with each passing day.
The death of the minds is the worst death of all
Or possibly the death of the spirit, but
Cannot a dead spirit rise for revenge?
What does a dead mind rise for?
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