Nihil

I've got a skull full of what-fors and their echoes
Although the space in there feels gigantic
The bones marking it off are like an extra-thick wall, a blockhouse, a bottomless pit
Screams go unheard in here
Craving hands fail to be ghostly enough to reach through the granit
Inner suffering only resonate with outer suffering and
immediately crawls away from it shrinking on itself like a worm
Wears instead indifference as a sophisticate armor a tool of disconnection
That'll desensitize one from the soft touch of lovers
And in one's hair close to one's ear tender murmurs and pleas

Only to be met with similar frames of mind
Within other skulls soon to be bare