Spun

These walls are sacred -
here in my solitude,
coating my mind
with toxic glaze,
staring at the void
through smoky haze,
thinking nothing
for the world outside.
 
My vain sacrifice
come to fruition -
yielding a river
of poisonous slurry;
would leave it's banks
but vision is too blurry
so, hear I sit
holding the oath
I swore to the shadows
of my mind.