The window pane pessimist.
.
Growing indecision amidst the shadow
Of human fiction.
Wreathed in snarling strands of sulphur.
The street; an ember of human civilisation
Groaned in the effort of perseverance.
An empty self is infinite, a true and total
ID , reactionary animal truth.
When I look out from my window all
I see is that infinity, that Horrible horrible infinity
Is there no escape to the finite, the reassuring
Limitations of a self?
The gray of the world sweats with the remains of
Last nights precipitation. Curdled cream clouds
Fill the sky with hideous aromas for the eyes.
Such bland dew, and the birds, they are empty to listen.
look at the natural beauty, look right through
to its deep chaos foundation.
Hope? HA! The word is just a symbol
For denying what is held in the hand, felt in the
Wind heard in the ear.
there is no hope
Just the moment, THIS Moment.
.