The desert is a vast open space where the vitality to live is a rare occurrence.

Death comes to those who venture into the desert.

The bones of dead animals lay scattered in various places.

When one traverses the desert, false images taunt one with the hope that life will come for them, but it never does.

Insects crawl upon the desert floor, hiding the secret of living from the unwary traveler caught beneath the blistering sun.

White light blinds and exhaustion exceeds the desire, and the sand invades the mouth until the last of life is extinguished.

Forgotten, destitute, failed, denied, the desire to live vanishes amid the hallucinations of the angels circling above.

When the vultures come, the wide eyed stare of the dead comforts them.

The meal that is my flesh satisfies their depraved appetites.

Time passes and my hopes become one with the rotted bones of long past.

No one knows, no one ever finds me, dead in the desert that is my mind.


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