Sunday, October 08, 2006

Building with Ink (Late night ramble 8/08)

The saddest thing I can tell you
My love is that it’s not you, but this
Feeling that I’ll miss more.

Your presence erased my
Rambling pen bleeding morose
Existential trappings and filled
That empty nothing with pudgy
Mindless nothing, for which I
Thank you.

Yet, now you stray leaving
Me to wallow in empty
Nothing, for which I hate
You, which is why love can
Never produce friendship—

Love lost reaps disdain.

In you I tried to hide, but
God (or random fate) will
Not allow me solace. I’m here
To burn and I know this. And
So I’ve run.

You were my final shade.

Burning in ink I’ll find you again
In the words of ghosts screaming
To breathe once more.

I am exceptionally empty, you
See, I was only ever meant to be a
Channel and never received.

I am no more a shadow than drying ink.

1 comment:

Dr. Kat said...

Wow...I am so impressed. "it’s not you, but this Feeling that I’ll miss more." More agonizingly true words have never been written.