i'm weary of tracing the path worn thin by maybe next times and begin agains now a ditch dug deep with faults stacked high in comforting darkness with forgotten sky superficially close to brightness of light stumbling in shadows shaking with fright i pause and wonder how could i rewind and choose a path that would be more kind when i'm eight feet down and i've dug my grave my closet is empty and cadavers hold the spade there's no way out