corvus

I live inside a black stone ball.
I see no golden reflections.
My only comfort silence.
My only sustinance emptyness.
Echos of the outside world taunt and mock me.
Here a snippet, there a flash.
Still nothing penitrates the darkeness.
All I see are illusions.
All I touch is empty.
I rage against my prison.
FLY FROM ME!
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I long to feel pleasure,
Yet nothing satisfies.
Not food, not sex, not power.
I am undead, I long for my rest.
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Where does my golden rest lie?