Depths of the Worst

Here we go again
from the depths of the worst,
from the mouths of deceivers
to the ears of the firsts.
Staring at further
down than thought possible,
a fate just a week past
thought to be implausible.
Lying on this back
fatigued from carrying the load,
shoving more down
this throat that's forced to choke.
Now there's no choice
but to stare up,
staring up at rock bottom,
sipping from this nearly empty cup.

Weakness and Fragility

Weakness and fragility,
signs of my futility,
yet no signs of utility
are coming from me now.
Fatigued and tired,
found with much ire,
as if cross-wired
with no function any more.
Thoroughly confused,
in and out of news,
piled with the refuse
as I should be.
To the side discarded
with no need to be guarded
in a sea never parted
away from anguish,
on a drowning ship
going down so quick
as the slow drip
now rushes in falls.
Efforts last ditched
with ideas pitched
without anything enriched
with any meaning.
Emptiness abounding
with nothing surrounding
but a chest pounding
with a heart soon to quit.