Foreign World of Pain

Cold barren plain.
Void of water,
life sustaining nutrients,
heat.

Fallen to this world by the choices I alone have made.
No one coming, no one can.
Alone with my demons,
some would say,
a curse.

Everywhere I look, no hope.
Gravity crushing despair.
With last able moments of energy,
I crawl.

No matter the direction, the horizon ends in an impregnable wall.
Above is a sky of white filled with multiple suns.
Yet still I squirm.

Finally I can take no more.
I surrender to sleep, one that will prove an eternity.
With my last waking gasp I say,
"I've finished all my beer, I fell, I can't get up."

the end (or until the next happy hour)

Find more by Robin Lipinski in the Author Index.

Comment on this story in the Aphelion Forum

Return to Aphelion's Index page.