I only dream
of filling the body with dry sand
to relegate desire to veins of darkness
flowing relentlessly towards a dragging sea –
if hands and fangs were buried in true illusion,
thirsty accidents and ultimate beginnings;
the taste of polar penumbras
to blind the eyes with totality
defoliate the skin as absurd autumns
to lay thought as a carpet over existence
and roll down the slopes of nothingness,
as the denuded birds throw off their wings
to join the worms wallowing in the mud
of my ancient heart.
Beyond Language 
Damn, that was fine. I’m not a nihilist and don’t want to be. But I recognize and respect the No-thingness that undergirds this world.
woooowww… the way you strung the words to make this is so good.. keep up the good work .. :-D
gracias!
The picture makes the poem that much better.
Very interesting, I think.