Deathwatch Robb White Chapter

My little vent in the piece of paper,
because when you take the chill
vomiting stomach pain a bit 'anywhere,
a perfect square of empty soul,
everything seems hateful and twisted,
everything fades into a tear,
does seem this life a broken toy,
and myself look like a dream now dead.

have a voice breaks the silence that reads
and reads a poem,
a floating body memories, which
dirty and the white magic,

of an empty room of a deserted cemetery
the regular breathing that produces sound, a sound
the end of time.