For one to embark on an expedition,
To find one’s own ending nerve;
Which is marked as a feeble attempt.
For one to create their own perdition,
To caress their evil’s curve;
Which leads perversions to be exempt.
One seeks to stand at the lip
of the endless drop into oblivion.
Stare down into the abscess
of one’s own pallid thoughts.
One enjoys the frightful trip
of the ending nerve’s quotidian.
Stare and begin to obsess
of one’s mind’s black spots.
Ending nerves are the wildfires
one feels kissing one’s fingertips.
Locating one’s event horizon,
let’s them peer at the darkness.
Ending the obsession inspires
one to smile at one’s eclipse.
Use the edge’s edge to siphon.
Enjoy the metaphorical hyphen.