Inconsolable

In my stomach,
there is a pit as dark as a day,
in which I do not recognize the sun,
for she is foreign to me,
as foreign to me as my own reflection.
A single, sullen orb she is,
who whispers sweet, sweet maledictions into my ears,
with her raspy, monotonous voice,
in truth she whispers,
"You are worthless,
You are queer,
of all the realms you could've been concieved,
why here?
Your presence heavies no weight,
in fact your absence brings joy and relief among so many.
So do it dear,
I dare you,
in a river of broken teeth, decay."

As easily as I am broken,
so is my heart,
and as easily as my heart decieves,
as does my mind,
and as lovingly as my mind blooming under the moon,
there is my soul,
begging, shedding, faintly, asking for submission,
surfacing her yearning for death,
that last sour breath parting her dry lips,
bleeding, blooming, baking underneath a black hole sun,
once again she says,
"You are are worthless,
You are queer,
take that blade,
estinguish the fear,
for all is clear on the frontier but from above the sum is inconsolable."