Life is a vitriolic vortex,
it's useless to be deceived by its beings' shiny wax.

All too soon that coating will smolder away,
revealing a  waterfall of bugs and decay.

It's only then that you'll realize,
that all your aspirations were just lies.

People you trust with your life,
see nothing in piercing your bent-over back with a knife.

You are truly alone in this no-man's land,
after everyone has refused to lend you a hand.

The only time to feel like you're not worthless,
surrounded by the downy duvet of darkness,
where dreams reign like diamonds.

As soon as dawn comes knocking,
those gems will turn uncut and need locking.

And when the time comes to get out your polish,
you feel the incoming threat of demolish.

Now you're down below,
trapped in a wooden box exempt from flow.

Suddenly...they care,
bring your resting place flowers to wear.

Once the bell has tolled,
and your skin is cold,
the sympathies unfold.

But the time has passed,
for niceties that last.

One giant globe,
millons of statues lined with withering wax,
life is a vitriolic vortex.

Standing tall and proud,
Piercing oblivion.
They stretch and scratch at the sky like daggers unsheathed -
Lost in their monumental presence,
You finally understand
What it feels like to be meaningless,
Insignificant and meager as you wander,
Ant-like, among the monoliths.

question: why didn't you turn your work in?
                 answer: being alive and having to function as a human being day after day is an exhausting and unsustainable exercise that i don't know if i can continue forever.
                 answer: i get so depressed that i can't move, can't do anything but wallow in my own revolting, pathetic self-pity.
                 answer: there are messages on my phone, friends trying to reach me, wanting to know how i am. the thought of replying to or looking at them fills me with dread.
                 answer: i've been thinking about entropy and the eventual, inevitable end of the universe. one day, on a scale that none of us can even comprehend, everything will be nothing and time will be meaningless. human civilization, all of our monuments and cities and societies, will be gone, with no one and nothing left to remember them. every act of cruelty and of kindness, any anger or joy or sadness ever experienced will mean nothing when us and all of our everything will be returned to the dust from whence we came. it's more than me contemplating my own morality, it's me trying to come to terms with the futility of the human experience. sometimes i get so overwhelmed with this sort of inconsolable nihilism i can't sleep.
                answer: i'm scared and i'm tired.
                answer: sometimes
                answer: i wish
                answer: i was
                answer: anywhere
                answer: but
                answer: here.
answer, spoken: i don't know. can i give it to you tommorow?

A resurgent nihilistic philosophy
A second lost generation
Disillusioned with the being of nations
Lost in their own antipathy
Confused by new sensations

A political theorist I am not
I like to wander in hills and clouds
And pick out kindred spirits in crowds
A thousand wasted battles fought
A thousand raggedy burial shrouds

The bohemians revel in their nonsense
Shall I my conceits and imaginations forsake?
Maybe a decent Lawyer I would make?
What is real and what is performance?
Which side of me shall I deem fake?

To which should I my attentions give
My unceasing love for liberty,
or a discontented bourgeoisie?
Material things I need to live
Yet still I am most lifted by poetry

She adorns her face with platinum
piercings, and her azure hair peeks
out of her indigo hoodie. Her
ragged, cinereous jeans reveal
scabbed and bruised knees, and
they’re tucked into jet black
biker boots strapped to her feet.

Without hesitation, she crosses the street.

Tires screech and car horns beep and drivers
scream obscenities that ornament the air
with scorn. Yet like a red belonging in folklore,
she slights their violent contempt.

She tipples from the burn of
self-destruction, and savors the
flavor of rebellion, a savor so
sweet it overwhelms her senses
and compels her to behave reckless.

And as I pass, I throw up my best fist
of anarchy. I wish I was free like this.

Though it takes a tinge of toughness
to stare into the nihilistic abyss,
it takes courage to have fun in it.


-
Aleksander Mielnikow

Flatline
__
Empty space.
Nichts.
Kurac moj.
Nothing.

What would happen
If a giant eye suddenly
existed in the sky
Watched us through its
bottomless iris?

What would happen
If the same giant eye
Suddenly started melting
And rained its moist mucus
On our frail beings?

What would happen
If eyes sprouted
From the mucus that
watered our body?

The eyes
Would serve as a crime
Against nature
But who are we
To define nature
What is nature to begin with?

What would happen
If the world changed
Beyond our control?

Nothing

We either die
Or we co-exist

I have travelled a thousand miles
covered myself in thousand styles
kissed the sand and touched the wind
loved and been loved akin
embraced the good and yes, I've sinned
lost sometimes and sometimes I win

one thing I've learned from the journeys made
by becoming a jack of all trades
by having scars of journey on my skin
by letting new experiences in
yes, I've learned this thing for sure
nothing is worth living for

© Ali Ashraf