Soon

[I wrote the following poem for this world of text. Rough coordinates: x:2; y:-3]

There is always an empty page to be filled,
And words are our means of doing so.
But what, if anything, can we do to fill
The emptiness in our hearts –
Black holes that tear
Into the very essence of our being?
Soon all shall be consumed by darkness,
Erasing memories both dear and painful –
Soon it will all mean nothing.

From the Lost Notes of the Deep Dweller’s Shipyard [New Fragment #6/Till Death Do Us Part]

Please never ask me how I keep going. I have no idea how – or even why, for that matter. All I know is this: The shadows will never tire of chasing me, and there is no long-term escape. Just now they are closing in on me again, as I stumble and sputter along the well-trodden path, bound for another fall. I can feel them everywhere, in the glaring sun as well as in the pale moonlight. The space to manœvre, or even move at all, decreases rapidly with each step and with each breath I take. I desperately clasp every little bit of happiness I have managed to get a hold on and tack on to my heart. Yet there is not a hope in hell when the time comes for the shadows to engulf me. And they will feast upon me, eagerly and mercilessly devouring whatever I may naively have believed to be mine to keep, from the fondest memories to the most intense feelings of love still lingering. Finally, they will leave me alone in the dark to rot for two eternities. Alas, they need my repeated suffering to nourish them, and so they will leave the seeds of false hope to be betrayed to grow another tree of life from within the despair-infested grounds. For where death would be the only true companion, only emptiness awaits to corrupt the very essence of my being. May the day that death do us part come soon.

China in the Void

‘I feel lost inside my own skin’, I wrote.
It is not like a prison –
I am just all over the place –;
not like ashes scattered to the wind –
I just extend indefinitely.
I cannot get a hold of anything –
it keeps floating
like ethereal china
in an endless void.

Wasteland

All the people in the world,
with all their lives,
with all their deaths,
with all their words,
with all their silence,
with all their promises,
with all their oaths,
with all their dreams,
with all their nightmares,
with all their deeds,
with all their apathy,
with all their gains,
with all their losses,
mean nothing.

Everything is destined to go to waste in the end,
sooner or later,
without question, without doubt.
Only our denial makes it appear different –
as though anything were worth our while.

And when I look into your eyes,
I see you at the end of time:
We are worlds apart.
And when I look into your heart,
I see your doom.
I see your doom approaching.

The Vanity of Hope

And once more my feelings subside, as though they were not mine, or just a blurry dream from the distant past, unreal and far away.
I am out of touch with myself, knowing I do not belong here. No matter how often the sun return, I shall always end up alone in the dark.
The vanity of hope is a vice which can not be forgiven. The vicious mistress tempts us just so as to devour us, and then give rebirth to us in despair and disgust time and again.