The Nihilist - One: Black and White

Loss without gain and pain within pain circle as vultures, alighting down on the soul like a virus of coal, cancerous, feral and blighting. White turns to black then metamorphs back with a crazy molecular sweeping, darkness holds sway at the zenith of day, greyed-out from perpetual weeping. Where has she gone, what time once upon keeps her with total restriction, as white turns to black then metamorphs back truth becomes fact becomes fiction. The glass and the bottle consumed at full throttle leave only the dregs of their being, though empty they be they exist still for me for at least they are there for the seeing. The lips I once kissed I know still exist yet breathe in a new constellation, and the fires that burn until her return feed a black and white life of stagnation.