Those sad eyes.

Deep wells of thought.

Thoughts so deep that they bury.

They bury,

They sink,

To depths

Of black holes.

Tearing.

Ripping.

Stretching and pulling,

The blackness.

The boundless edges

For grabbing,

But not grasping.

Hopeless.

Lost.

Gladly succumbing

To the draw

Of the vortex.

In the depths

Of the dark eyes.