One Void to Another

It’s as if

All I seem to do is

Go from one void, to another

It’s not that I disparage the emptiness; I cherish its insight, for it moulds me

Like I’m made of clay, even though, I tend to be closer to porcelain

It knows its way around a person – I’ve witnessed this emptiness discover

Chinks of brimstone within me, despite my sedimentary inclinations

Thus ablaze I go, from one void to another

Shall I deceive and reject this eternity, promising false change in the certain?

Succumb and choose oblivious over oblivion, indoctrinate my own veins

With white lies, as empty as the countless abysses that I’ve left, and that await

In many ways, the null brings an odd tranquil, I possess little jurisdiction to deny its existence

Satisfactory travel, satisfactory accommodation of perpetual damnation

I’m destined to cycle in such ways, and trip over my own two feet, on repeat

Don’t you see I follow the cycle of water? Am but a mere imitation.

A self-fulfilling prophecy of occasional brimstone, overwhelming slate

I’m not one to believe in predestination, but this is my figurative fate

I do live with passion, still domineered by the empty which hurls me into voids

From one, to another

Kind enough to allow the catching of my breath

This way I shall live until infinity or death

I’m alive, I rise, I familiarise myself with the empty that belongs to void number two

I linger in its bearable mundanity, I shine its monochrome beach pebbles

I care for its water cycle as we are one and the same – it’s only courteous

And while I await the inevitability of void number three

I may find a brimstone pebble hiding in the scree