My life is a tangled web of insolvency and despondency.
A slave to melancholic tendencies.
Blinded and paralysed, a parasite of sorts, fused into my soul with no hope of dissolution.
One in which I have become accustomed to, as if we were one; forever fettered.
Anxiety listlessly claws away, no longer noticed but lethal nonetheless.
Funnily enough desires to numb such thoughts are fervent within.
As if in doing so I could evade the inevitable and avoid such harsh veraciousness.
That there is nothing left for me.