The Desolate

In a dark room I can align myself, 

feet to hands, hands to mouth,  

laying on my back 

confined by one ceiling, 

four walls centre my being, 

darkness is a new religion 

religion is a prison that holds no wisdom,  

I close my eyes walking the Sahara 

I have no companion or significant lover 

I walk until my feet are blistered, 

the heat from the stratosphere 

burns my back, I'm damaged 

I can't turn back, 

I can't treat old wounds, 

I'm a shell, a 6 dimensional object 

sophisticated enough to function 

in a 2 dimensional world, 

the desolate is open, 

it withstands the old

nothing is compromised, 

the weak are killed,

I'm not a prototype of the obsolete, 

I'm not God fearing,

I'm not a product 

of social engineering, 

I'll fight to the end 

tearing flesh with 

my teeth from the bone