This absence follows behind me where I walk;
This absence is pure
This absence is silent
This absence is the white wind I see in my dreams
pushing me forward, continually running
until this absence feels no pain.
This absence is good, with no evil beneath
This absence taught me how to love,
never needing much
This absence was angelic,
this absence died out with light in its presence.
Pay attention to your absence.
Give it love even when it fades to gray
and turns into the wind.
The absence behind me is
golden,
perfect and old
yet a youthful soul
black when your eyes meet
but glorious in its core.
This absence will never leave me.
This absence
will never leave me.

Dark is the Absence of light, laughter the absence of fright
  weakness the absence of might, day the absence of night
    Blindness the absence of sight, grounded the absence of flight

The absence of you, i would no longer write
You are my muse, without you, i'm just hopeless in life

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, This is not not true
i'll die within a second, if i cant breathe the essence of you
You the queen that i live for, if only you knew
infinite words can never conclude
failing to capture what i wish to imbue

You are the blood of my lifeline, i live on cloud nine
so please don't ever leave me, you are my prayer, my living shrine.

The absence of you, there will be no divine.

I will get stuck to our past lives , with the absence of time.

The absence of you, will surely, with conclusion
                           sever my life line.

now, I will try to abandon time and space
in this form of truancy.

what is this abandonment trying to measure?
  the abeyance of presence.

what is the measured variable trying
to dissect? the impossibility of absence.

a poem aspires to be something concrete. a poem
   is what is real and imagined in the same context.

I try to invoke Abad -- what is imagined is most
   real.  this shall be its leitmotif.

now, i imagine the horizon as a point

of origin, or a template to some familiar projection,
  or a tagebuch summarized into a fine line
of allegories and denouement.

what this line tries to prove is that

an enjambment is a mimesis.

acknowledge the sublimity of a
  creation. notice that the sequence that will
be promised is diegesis of absence as form
     but not a poem as in a poem that enshrines
lucidity -- but the lack of it.

there is only the photograph of horizon
   as hypothesis of perpetuality. this now

is a subject, a speculative undertaking rearing a
   poem -- writing as preparatory for absence,

finishing a line as pursuit of thesis, gravity of
    its heft as tabulation of emphasis, or
verbosity, which may be telling of meaning or chronology.

a poem that is not a poem,
  But poem as a form of absence

that aspires to be a poem.

what is transpiring now is that i am assuming
   an utterance: utterance as being here,

and perhaps voice as sound of becoming but not finality
   of presence, and sound as disappearance

post-peak. its point-source silence and formation
   of thought, and then a poem is written as

evidence of disappearance in deep and close
   contest with a vision coming from another

audience as an objective supposition or
   reaction that may propel an exchange

but only when silence is entertained does
  silence happen, and so this may be dismissed

as a monologue among dialogues insofar as
    only to pinpoint this arrogant feat:

i may be speaking glossolalia, or in tongues,
  and that i seek no reprieve nor vestige,

all the more response -- intone of voice
   stilling itself in the tense setting

of being gazed upon, glazed with coherence
  of senses from one identity to another say,

you hear me speak as in speaking
as baring sound.
   but now that i have spoken, i have already undone

  the quiet to stir volumes and amplitudes
to attest sound-fade as vital component of absence,

whereas this poem produces ample sound
  if you pay close attention to yourself reading

in the lull form of reading (your
breathing will have intensified here,

your reasoning will have made so much
  noise here) as i continue to whittle

away in form of verse, verse not as poem,
  verseliteration not as occupancy of space,

but all in all, a body of work
that is a visage of movement - or a trace of absence, physics of space and kinesis of departure.

a delineation of a thing that was once
   thriving in threshold accompanied

by its tendency to wane: sound may be an
     analogue of unheard, as sound is impervious
to quietude but quietude conscious of sound
     and its potential,

that quiet coheres to its inclination to consummation,

this completeness so emphatic,
this allegory as
  absence the somatic, axiomatic,

indefatigable machinery of a presage,
   or continuity -- this poem that is not a poem,

but an excess of sound, a body that
   deserves end,  a punctuation.
     verity of this argument in basest form.

this body of work as absence
  and its completeness, volition

of its enigma: is this the end
  of sound or your silence summoned?

to drag it back, its recalcitrant body,
   is form of revision, then possession

of an absence, a recollection that will have granted
   seamless entry and translation

which passes on from its origin to
  a new clause -- to end it here, now and pass

over as readable only in the background that is
   an embellishment of absence amongst

things in exclusive continuity, to have this produced
   in space as empirical of absence,

and to punctuate this, a mystification,
or say, acceptable fabrication,

to read and extricate as acceptance of an absence
   as form: this poem that is not a poem but

only a physicality delimited -- to speculate
and study
as disbelief, and to have done such simply

demystification of its transition.

1
   **My dad suddenly walks in,
  as if nothing has happened,
   and he hasn't gone anywhere, leaving
six of us behind, notwithstanding-
all these years of absence and
pain unimaginable that changed us all
to see life in a new light that gets dim
without the lamp he held in front of us.
       A shadow transparent gets in to the room,
he stands near mom sitting inside her cocoon,
lost in an ancient evening, pensive, forlorn
as if she feels an absence, tangible right there.
Dad's absence stands silent, perhaps
curiously looking at her with loving eyes
that's how he was, after a period of absence.
The pantomime, tears my sense of reality
                   in to shreds, I sit upright,
with my hands pressed against my palpitating heart.
Do I see it really or hallucinate him looking,
wistfully at the coconut groves dancing
beyond the extending rice paddy billowing,
in front of our farm yard, sleepy these days,
for a moment I think time has
taken liberty to flow back
and everything is right there
where we'd love it to be.
             2
The absence was a hollow,
in the middle of everything,
breaking the mirror of reality
in to smithereens, the dark space,
in between sprang-
opening its mouth to swallow,
wherever one turned,
it stood in front defiantly,
posing a challenge at times,
it came behind hollering noiselessly,
bringing unbearable memories,
from moments hard to forget
spent in his company,
in my palmy days of yore.
                    3
Absence was fire within,
that needs no fuel to burn,
flood waters without a source,
that can wash away,
till one becomes nothing;
then little by little,
one comes in to terms with the absence
and at last it too is laid to rest,
and that eats a part of the soul,
causing bleeding in slushy green,
transparent white and blobs of sad black.

Absence.
Lack thereof.
Without.
Lost.
Forgotten.

Absence.
An empty bed.
Lonely hearts club.
A party of one.
Quiet house.
Not even a stir.
Miles cracking as he spins and spins
Rain drop drops down the windows,
down walls
down me.

Absence.
Not good enough to be remembered.
Boring, lackluster, too easily surpassed.
A hole in the heart,
Weakness is showing emotion.
Blank face.
Death in Life.
EXILE.

Absence.
Tardiness.
A minute too late.
Detention.
No, absence.
Not here at all
was never really here
was never ever here.

Absence.
Seeing what is wanted
Not what is had.
What is had
is absence.
A lack thereof.
Nothing really at all.

Distance,
Drifting away
Drifting apart,
It's something I feel deeply,
Something I've felt so often,
That the absence of absence
Makes me feel skittish.

And maybe it's just
Me.

People come
And people go.

They drift in and out of my life
As though I'm a rest stop
For busy travelers
On busy journeys
That I may never
Be a part of.

And though I give them a chance to close
Their strained eyes,
And a chance to rest
Their weary heads,
When they awake
They always expect more comfort.

But I was not made
To make them comfortable.
I was not born
To please.

And when I decide
I would like to start my journey,
They go.
It's too much trouble.

I'm too much trouble.

The absence of absence
Leaves me anxiously pacing,
Panic-stricken,
Ringing my hands together,
Waiting for it to all
Come falling down.

But this absence
Is killing me.

Love
Your absence
in the presence

Anger
Your presence
in the presence

Debts
Your absence
in the absence

Death
Your presence
in the absence

husband
his presence
was always absence

Wife
her absence
was always presence

Parents
their absence
was not absence

Guest
their presence
was not presence

Retirement
our presence
was really absence

Absence of nothing
Full of everything
Who I supposed to be
While I´m writing here

Absence of pain as a joy
Trading on ambiguity
Absence of a nonentity
Still a proper entity

Absence of darkness as a light
Darkness or absence insight
(Un)consciousness always fight
Nonexistence invites

Absence of existence as a non-existence
Unicorns don't exist
A square circle essence
Dangerous mental twist

Absence of unreality as a reality
Into an absolute nothingness
In any universe timeline
An insane tragedy

Absence of demolition as a building
Existence is not a negation of negatives
Feeling absolutely nothing
Sharing words as a sedative

The absence of time,
Absence of friends,
Absence of a will to live.
This is a plague that has struck our generation.
The absence of support,
The absence of perants.
This is what we have to live with each day.
Seeing no boundaries,
people tear away every piece of joy that was once present.
After all, no one cares.
We have to "know our place," but when anything happens, it's our problem, our fault.
The absence of a role model.
Because life is now even more absent
And death has shown it's presence

Absence:
I remember everything that night
It is engraved into my mind
I remember what true happiness felt like
I remember

The night was cool
But you were warm
Hand in hand
They fit together like a puzzle piece

I remember the music
Loud and fun but clear and calming
The notes sang a beautiful melody
One I will never forget

I remember your eyes crystal blue
They were full of life
I remember you laugh
It was music to my ears

It was the best day of my life
The dance, the night
But it ended too soon
I can feel the absence

I can feel the cold again
The emptiness of life
The absence of your hand
The absence of happiness

To this day I miss your laughter, the sparkle in your eye
I miss the warmth, the dance
I miss that memory
*But most of all I miss you

I woke up with nothing on mind,
With a Feeling that can't be defined,
I couldn't tell what's the problem,
I couldn't remember the last dream,
I was like a drunk but so sober,
I was  happy yet I suffer,
I was there confused thinking,
Thinking without even blinking,
Stangely I had no thought,
What's happening what's next,
What could be worst
What could be best,
There's something that I need,
Something that makes me breathe,
I don't know what to say...
Stangely I had no thought,
If Life has taught me few,
A few then more,
More than few know,
And less than most know,
If darkness is the absence of Light,
If Blindness is the absence of sight,
If Cold is the absence of heat.
If Evil is the absence of good,
If loneliness is the absence of love,
If prose is the absence of rhyme,
If ignorance is the absence of knowledge,
What do I lack to feel this way ?

**Strangely I have no thought.

There's a man in my head
He speaks to me in silence and in dreams
What he is, I do not know
But it doesn’t really matter

In the silence, he asks me
“What do you hear?”
I hear the hissing of the sand
Falling through the proverbial hourglass
Like a vaporous snake sifting through the silt
On the banks of an endless river
Like snowflake after snowflake
Caressing the ground with winter’s edifice of ice
Until everything is locked away, buried and frozen
I hear the ringing vibrations of subatomic particles
Ascending to crescendos and sinking
Into gentle diminuendos as electrons are exchanged
I hear the Earth trading momentum with the moon
As they rotate and revolve through the vacuum of the Universe
In a continuous gift before forever falling away
And leaving nothing behind but an empty ecliptic

“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“It hurts like hell.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“Sometimes I cant. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep.”

And in my dreams he asks
“What do you see?”
I see a cell growing and dividing
Into all the people that I know
I see their blood vessels transmuting into trees
And their arms folding into wings that
Carry them to heaven while stone shifts like water
Beneath them and the seas go dark
I see the Earth condensing out of asteroids
And being swallowed by the Sun
I watch inertia carry light and color along the tail of a comet
And into clouds of gas and dust that swirl in the vacuum
Of the Universe, like the stars of a galaxy
Crumbling into a black hole, down the drain of gravity
That bends superclusters into the blood vessels
Of a human eye, I see nothing and everything
I see life and death and the profound mystery of existence
Most of all, I see myself

“Does it scare you?”
“It’s ******* terrifying.”
“How do you cope?”
“Sometimes I cant. Sometimes all I want to do is die.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because sometimes it’s so beautiful.”

And in my nightmares he asks me
“Why don’t you just end it all?”
“Because I’m afraid.”
“Don’t you want the suffering to be over?”
“I’m not so sure it will be.”

The only thing I know of death is the absence of life
Just like darkness is the absence of light
And I can’t fathom what that nothingness is
I can’t comprehend the absence of life

“Well, do you have a soul?”

Is all that I am a murmur of electricity?
A chemical reaction inside of some adipose?
Is there nothing in the darkness of my pupil
Or is there only the absence of light?
Is all that I am just a sequence of nucleotides
Transcripted and translated, again and again
For no reason other than the absence of chaos?
If that’s all that life is then how can there be peace in death?
Or is there only nothing?
The only thing I understand
Is that there's something more
That I can't understand

"Well, do you?"
“I don’t know.”
“Then what am I?”
“Something that exists in dreams.”
“Then what’s in a dream?”
“I don’t know, please go away.”
“I can’t go away. I will never go away.”

There’s a man in my head
He speaks to me in hatred and in bliss
And I don’t know who he is
Or if he even is
But he lives in the pit of my stomach
He lives in between the wrinkles around my eyes
And he is oh so curious about things that we aren’t meant to know
And he will never go away
But it doesn’t really matter