The black shawl-like quality Of the nothingness Wraps itself around everything. A constant emptiness That makes all full. Its veins run blue And gold and scarlet And every hue between, It dies as it arises.
The nothingness embraces all, Easily, it encases me. In everything and anything. And that which I lack I supplement with hope. A chain mail lie linked With fragile expectations Of love and other drugs, Other falsifications.
This tapestry holds whispers, Secrets and blueprints To all of creation. Globes of dying light That crash in the dark. But alas I can see Its stars are not cross'd For me [cue tears], I fear my script is lost.
Perhaps when the dopamine Corrodes and rots my brain, My soul will take the reins. Connected to the cosmos It tells me everything, But yea, it shows me nothing Except tantalising flashes Of what could be, In its swirls of red and azure.