existential poem

a train of thought
that ends in cynicism at worst
and suicide at best
takes me on a journey
into the mouth of all storms;
   i am losing control.

   lead in collars
over moors of angst
in the face of the living god
subdued
    and scourged
    i crawl
    with fellow men and women
into the grand arena
of a grotesque and ugly world;
an incomprehensible life experience
disturbing even the ૐ
     of the fundaments of the world.

i am manacled, chained like the slave,
to the totem of modern culture
and as a consequence
i lose the ability to identify
with that which stands in opposition
to civilisation by definition;
i lose myself in the absence
of intrinsical human pride
    and in the study
of the omni-devouring, socio-gnostic origins
    of human reality
in a pathetic wish and want
to become whole, to become fed on words,
and to contradict the future
with knuckles firm
of war
  and of poetry.

amongst the cold debris,
the leftovers of smiles and laughters
feel distant, and weak
and the rotting sun
  vomiting warmth
  into my face
as I am left alone
with the insatiable thirst for doubt
that characterizes the loss of expression
and the coming of life
   feels
     just wrong.