In the absence of presence and in the silence of darkness,
a mind wanders and lingers on failures it fixates
on entangled versions of this thought and that one,
the wrong one the right one,
ensnared by perception,
but never contented; serenity slips through damp fingers
made wet from the downpour of a
cloud swelling, ruptured from the force of
heat rising to boiling points driving it mad as a
mad-man who leaves you with knots in your stomach
cause nothing can match the injustice of
many lives taken for no goddam purpose, and God –
What’s the Purpose?
Trying to resolve all the random thoughts blinking like
lights in a place where no lights are,
it flickers as
eyes blink –
No shadows but thoughts of good will
casting hope onto nothing?
It’s all that it has,
and it wants to.
It must be.
It struggles to cast off the corpse to shed light,
cause it’s never as dark as
it is.
