Lack
When once your world is gone, you lurk, a ghost,
Your own ghost. What would be the use of glows
Of warmth when what you loved is lost? Life’s boast,
That love, is silent echoes in the throes
Of ricocheting vacuum. Not just
That love but all else is destroyed.
There’s nothing now. The thrusting red of lust
Is non-existent. Love and lust have toyed
With you and now you are a see-through rat
Made up of nothingness that’s tossed around
And up by nothing claws a nothing cat
Deploys. No physics here, not even sound
So groans are strangled. Blankness has no ear.
There’s nothing that blank witnesses could hear.