#existentialnihilism
My life, my existence
Has become
Cigarettes, *** indigo ink
Wishing, to make it
Through the day
And wishing I had
The guts to die
I hope, secretly
For a stranger
A human shaped hurricane
Someone new
Who doesn't know my history
Someone to set me free
My perfect, imperfect
Stranger
Wherever can you be?
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:23 AM UTC
When I am dead, reclaim me
When I am dead, our earth
Though it will be mine, no more
Will reclaim me
It will have my body
Like hyenas, upon my empty carcass
Or crows, on battle fields
I shall cease to be
My body will be of the earth
Because in these, once, the vessels of our opinion and our prejudice
Are things, that allow
For one more day
One infinitesimal second
They allow, the earth, to limp on
Existing, decaying
For one day longer
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:05 AM UTC
This pain, this ache
Within my chest
It hurts me, I wish, I could rest
I would take, for any price
A moment's peace, a restful night
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC
Coffee cups and ink stained hands
Half finished thoughts, part written papers
Aching, craving, sentiment
A purple book, so innocent
Chronicling an atrophy
Of soul
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 5:26 PM UTC
Another 20p in the jukebox
Another has-been song
The bar is full of people
Each one moving along
They exist, satisfied
In their own small bubble
Each person is alone
This is what we call a life
This is all we've ever known
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
I am floating, drowning
In a *** dream
Words float, about me
Out of reach, as I am out of touch
Here and there, a wanderer
But I do not call to them
I see them, they try
To mend nets, to close the holes
Retain some of the cosmos
That slip through
I hear their low, anguished moans
Moving through, a dream of dreaming
Clocks, melting into a pool of abstract
As time itself ceases to believe
I wake, clocks are solid
The universe is not running
Reality reigns again
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
Four shots of ***
Then I write
Grandiose, I soliloquise
And my pen tracks across the page
Talking of being forgotten
As they themselves shall be
Then, my mind afire, and exhausted
I collapse, into the oblivion of sleep
This is but practice for death
I wake, and the process begins anew
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
I came, or was ******
Into the world
A half formed thing
I have limped through life
The waters of the universe
Slip through my fingers
I cannot cup my left hand
To catch the falling stars
Nor have I, all my brain
With which to comprehend
The nothing, that is our existence
I have existed, set back
Striving, for chances
To be, the same
I have thrown away
Gold gilt books, of wisdom
And sweet fruits of life
To follow others, to rot
And ruination, to be in company
To feel normal, and be not alone
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
I am a chance
Standing on the back of great improbability
Formed by sheer coincidence
And the random vastness of the universe
Yet I am supposed to
Believe?
In meaning, purpose, no
How may I?
My very essence
What mystics call a soul
Is but the product
Of a million, random
Bizzare happenings
That impressed themselves
Forcefully upon my psyche
How then, if this, is 'life'
May I believe
In meaning, or purpose
How, I wonder
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
The raindrops touch, my skin
And then are gone, absorbed
To be dead
Until I sweat, or ****
Or weep bitter tears
I wonder, what they witnessed
Created in high, tumultuous clouds
To fall, to fall amidst
Lightning and thunder
To experience such
Only to die, mere feet
From the earth
Because of one, such as I
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC
The grass is wet
Drops of rain, clinging
To each lolling blade
Like minute universes
Trees, all purple, like a swollen bruise
Or overripe fruit
Bit into, to cascade juices down
The chin of one, who sups upon
The pulpy flesh
And drinks, the juice of life
I fade, and flicker
Far away, and held fast
By that simple majesty
I see in nature
In this wet grass
I see, time's endless passage
Emerald green, vibrant grass
Here, and there, is scattered
All about, with leaves
Withered, brown, old
Marking time's voyage onward
Ravaged, by the passing moments
They do not even blow
Or flutter in the wind
As they did when they
Were green, on summer day
But rest, or are all dead
And will not stir
For what might stir now
The old and decayed
No touch of green upon them
Nay, they will not stir
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
In this empty space
Sitting on my bench
I am acutely aware
That I am alone
How long then
Since I felt
The fiery confusion, of fumbling kiss
Or many small ecstasies
Wrought by another's hand?
How long then since
In some shared space
With precious little between
Yet still we tried
To close any space
And in this, there was
Fire, and ice, calm, and excitement
How long then, since?
I cannot recall
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
There are two great, human fears
Nothing, and everything
We fear that we are, alone
But for the void, that nothing matters
Or we fear we are not alone
Are not the superior
No man can unconcerned, contemplate infinity
Just as no man can calmy think
That all is finite or does not really exist
Everything terrifies us
As does nothing
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
I exist
What am I?
I am conditional
I change
By company
By environment
Communication
Day, always
I change
I am everything
I might be something
I am nothing
I might not be
Humanity
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 8:27 AM UTC
Strangers at the bus stop
Always moving, a microcosm
Life in miniature
All convinced they need to get somewhere
When it doesn't really matter
They wait, impatiently
And i wait with them
But when my bus comes
I do not wish away the journey
I know that the destination, and time
Are unimportant
Yet, I hope
Someone might speak to me
Fill, however briefly
This silent time existing
With a flicker, of humanity
We will see
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
They gather, to hear musicians play
A few small groups litter the grass
They are like the music
Or the summer sun
They are fleeting
They exist, but for a time
They may even live
But they too shall pass
Into nothing
Should I envy them?
Their joy, however fleeting
Perhaps not
And yet, I do
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:18 AM UTC
Mostly, I am numb
Sometimes I feel
I feel fire, tearing my chest
Or rivers, cascading down my cheeks
I feel that I am, a ghost already
I feel insubstantial
As I breathe, because I must
I pretend, fake, living
In fact I simply move
I follow the actions
The processes, to survive
I, am numb
Sometimes, I feel
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:17 AM UTC
Another night, and I'm drinking
It's the medicine I take
To dull this existential ache
It's only 63% proof
So not 100% effective
But its that or the alternative
So I'll accept it
Half a bottle down
It still hurts to exist
Maybe it always will
I'll stay medicated
Till I live, or die
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
Here I sit, this bus stop
This inbetween
A liminal space
Possibility, all that we are
Can be described in these places
Uncertain, possible
The promise of going
But no set destination
I hear two strangers
Talking about relationships
The desire to be with someone
Clutching, scrabbling for something
Anything, this is human
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
The jukebox plays an oldie
Everyone is drunk
But they all know the words
If they don't know his name
This, is fame
A memory, one day lost
Think of Alexandria
Now nothing
Once so great
Or deities lost to history
That is the path we all take
We are born, we exist
Maybe even live
We die, and are forgotten
There is no hereafter
No pearly gates
No endless fire
Birth, existence
Then we expire
This is humanity
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:10 AM UTC
Bare, the green
Empty of people
Of life
But for one lone wanderer
People in the park
Fifty feet away
Do they wonder
Or believe they know
Why they're here
Or where they go
In the distance, I can see
A church steeple
That fountain of lies
They claim to know
The how's and why's
Of our existence
Of our strife
It is but an ******
To dull existential ache
To those who are not fooled
It has a bitter taste
Still, the grass is vacant
My hands, they shake
I used to stand up in high places
And fancy, I could see
The whole world, see everything
Stretching out in front of me
I am older now, and not so misty eyed
I see but a placeholder
A thing waiting to die
The tiny ant does not worry
Or count it's passing days
I think that our intelligence, has harmed us in some ways
We know too little, think too much
Try to mark the nothingness
To scratch, to scar
The endless void
We claw, and clutch
At meaning, purpose
These frail, ghostly things
Spectre of a ghost
Shadow of a shadow
These things, they die with us
There is no Eldorado
This is all I know
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
I exist, and dream of living
Each morning, when I wake
I throw wide the curtains, hoping
That today is the day
But it is not
And so I rise
I put on my clothes
I prance, and preen, and peacock
But i am not a living thing.
Every day, I exist
At night, I dream of living
Can I not live, just for a moment?
But reality is not forgiving
So the play, continues
I hope, a secret, forlorn hope
That I may, one day
Change this verse
But hope is just another dream
Another bubble to be burst
So I will keep existing.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
Life starts to seep through lines
I can't continue
To pretend that
Endlessness
Won't scare
Me
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC