I'm not good at coming up with titles, okay?

I can no longer watch nor taste nor listen, for all I do is mind
And when I touch and smell this world is no longer mine
My self refuses to take in and so I've learned to give back
And all that I have absorbed as a child serves to subtract
Music and poetry no longer move me as I've been starved
Infatuation and obsession is the heart that has been carved
Am I capable of love? I've learned just how to present it
But the mind that grants this gift has learned to resent it.
Of the world all I see is stagnation; when I run I close my eyes
To feel, and I believe, that I am with the one that loves me, but I
Know what love is, and feel it's not forever, such is death
Knowing me, I'd rather die than forget the pace of her breath
But, perhaps, in my next life, love will be kinder to my soul
My mind will know the feel of her skin and the taste of her jolt
And listen for and count every stroke 'till love smells of death
Then, once the deed is done, my ears shall, again, go deaf
And again, infatuation and obsession will be all that I crave
Because it's the only way I can continue singing to her grave
All my life, I have written songs to the sweet and lovely
And these blind eyes knew no limit, no beautiful nor ugly.
I denied myself the beauty of their heart for the beating of my own
And swore by it that I would give back the beauty in this loan

Bravo!

Loved it!