The Nihilist - One: Black and White
Loss without gain and pain within pain
circle as vultures, alighting
down on the soul like a virus of coal,
cancerous, feral and blighting.
White turns to black then metamorphs back
with a crazy molecular sweeping,
darkness holds sway at the zenith of day,
greyed-out from perpetual weeping.
Where has she gone, what time once upon
keeps her with total restriction,
as white turns to black then metamorphs back
truth becomes fact becomes fiction.
The glass and the bottle consumed at full throttle
leave only the dregs of their being,
though empty they be they exist still for me
for at least they are there for the seeing.
The lips I once kissed I know still exist
yet breathe in a new constellation,
and the fires that burn until her return
feed a black and white life of stagnation.
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