The unceasing churn. A life spent lost. Wanderlust depleted. A drought of life. Lungs filled with gravel. Weighing me down. Lungs filled with gravel. Anchored ambition. Gasp for air that won’t be obtained. Laying in a mental furnace. Thoughts and flesh splinter away. I am scarce, I am vacant. I feel the cask breaking its binds. The air crippling my lungs… Thinning every day. I will never move on. In this burden of suffering.