The night is dark
the soul is charred
its landscape tarred
trees bone black
black serpents paved till horizon –
the sad spectacle of thoughts
receding unhurriedly
as stars into nothing
white lions into oblivion;
I observe scattered teeth
engulfed in black blood –
that is the night sky.
Everything turns mysterious,
my hand the lonely shade
the ultimate despair;
everything
merging irrevocably
with the dead of night.

Nihilistic Poetry