Doubt

I am lost in the ennui.
Of a failed life.
I am ascending.
In abstentia.

My mind is in flux.
Sublimated to the nihilistic hole.
That grows.
With every passing day.

I'm comforted.
By failure.
I wallow in my own.
Misery.

A torch song.
For the potential I was told.
I had.

Isolation has become.
My dear friend.
Old comrades from mental.
Revolutions.

But, I'm dead.
Dilapidated and destroyed.
Ruling the ruins of  my broken thoughts.

Verbal garbage.

Running.
Down.
The.
Page.