I've never felt the keen sting of death
As briskly as when I am lost in thought,
In the darkest corners of my experience
Where concepts and feelings are bought

I wander in an almost conscious world
In a state of inhumanly cryptic disrepair,
As the fear of the unknown weighs down
My being longs for a breath of living air

Myself, the single mortal mind unhinged
Reverts away from common rationalities,
As the fibers of my cognition unfurl-
This primal basket of my carnal tenacities

Repulsed by the revision of a life left alone,
To dwell in the light of others who condone-
The deepest revelations of the individual
To say the least their warmth was residual

But neither the poet or the philosopher
Through shining sword or swollen pen-
Can refine these terrifying questions,
Which almost tear my soul to shreds

At the end of the labyrinth between dark and light
Lays a beast of the mind and the heart at war,
I am the wandering specter that approaches weary
Of the time I have spent; to be experienced nevermore