Wasteland

In this wasteland i scream,

no one around for miles.

silence.

and birds pecking at flesh.

My mind is a wasteland,

my body the rotting shell.

am i afraid of dying?

I gladly welcome hell.

hours and seasons change,

while here I stay,

never to move.

I'm in a place with no saving grace.

Where the thirst of life is no longer,

and food of thought has no nourishment.

Dwindling away as the sands beside me.