Rings Upon Rings

Nicotine dreams, fuel the harden criminal rage that bubbles underneath my milky flesh.

Once I was young,
but alas,
these days tick on,
melting away the cherished ideal of happiness.

That heartfelt spring in my step has drowned.

The bags under my eyes darken like the rings within an aging tree trunk.

It's a particularly funny event, aging.

We try not to think of death, but in doing so we suppress a growing fear within all of us.

We live to love,
and love to survive,
but what happens to those without love or life?

Their insides wither and decay, while the soul beats on.

A place unreachable,
unmentionable,
and uninhabitable.

A place worse then death itself.