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.