How it can come about so suddenly, hopelessness.
Looking for meaning and only finding meaninglessness, seeming.
Somewhere inside blackness to blackness, lacking dreaming.
Remembering abysses screaming, when last attempting to wish, inside of this.
Thinkers sinking into brinks, creeping into leaps.
Ink that seeps like endless tears, wind upon shadow being that weeps.
Ruins inside the shadow of the past, into fronts of forefronts.
Such expansions to ascend upon such mansions, made from thought form fonts.
The ones who write are in for a fight with dark nights of the soul.
Such sacred rites, from dawn to dawn, day to day, night to night, such sacred rights.
A superhuman strength against the length of the depth of the existential toll.
Breaking through the other side of storm cloud shrouds, into hallucinatory heights, such sights.
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Cipher
Poems
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You write great imagery, Cipher!