poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

the creatures I’ve held against my breast have gained no benefit from my open heart from my warmth, my good will I wan’t enough, I was too much, I was nothing, ever and they hissed their warnings of discomfort, or curled up to me only to find a cause for tears and heartbreak — cursed my offers of a path forward and after the many winters there was nothing left in a moment I will put my Glock to my head and just pull the trigger — without a second thought eventually all options are exhausted any path is thought through a thousand times I shall leave no note, no explanation for those who wouldn’t read whilst I still wrote for there is no legacy — not the Norse fate of living on the lips of others through heroic deed nor any lessons to leave behind death comes for the subject personally and for no one else it is said the moment Buddha died a fawn was born for even such light in the world was extinguished without the universe taking a moment of silence 28-XII-16
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
« prev | index | next »