This evening, I spent 2 hours journeying through a countryside of pure nothingness as the sun set in the sky. The light was bending beneath and above the car I was riding in. And standing amidst this startling sight, I was taken aback by the passively depressive nature of it.
I'm still in awe of the ideas that came to me on this trickling journey. I started to write a few things down.
Back to poems again, I'm sorry to say. I'm sorry because I just can't write a happy poem. It just doesn't feel right, you know?
Maybe I'm not sad. I'm just pensive.
This poem doesn't have a name. I don't think it needs one. The lack of a title suits it perfectly, as the poem itself describes the indescribable.
The indiscernable.
Don't ask me who the female character ("she"/"her") in this is. I'm really not talking to anyone in particular.
The words just give you a sample of the kind of landscape that surrounded me at that time.
Most people would call it beautiful or amazing.
It was just a deep, spiralling pit of melancholy to me.
How about you read on to taste some of this pensiveness.
--
I could see the end of the world in her eyes
As we gather our lives
In cries and sighs.
We've sucked the will to live
Out of our worn out womb
And so the planets align
To make out the shadow of a tomb.
The curves of her face only just inspire me
When I'm staring up,
Depressed so convincingly.
Keeping me a unit
Above the fearful fate I've carved
Does not make me feel alive
I'm just an empty soul that has starved.
I might be dead of alive in the middle of nowhere
The thought of lying beside the void
Might be getting me somewhere.
I fly beneath indifference
Far from love
For I now know, that in any world
Peace is no dove.
Peace is just a machine
A huge break from that dream.
My spirituality
Offers no dramatization
As far as you can see
Watch out for me
As I journey on the path
To self-realization.
--
I'm afraid by the words I can draw out of my mind, and the ties that bind.
I really need to hit the ground and find the world again.
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