Chasing
the future
like
mustangs of fury galloping into a terrible nothingness
but
returning to yesterday, the unholy, haunting home of
yearlings
in the wild, darting & bolting across dark pastures
barren & unadorned, vast & bleak, bereft of beauty,
without
a
fuchsia flower to adorn & fill the harrowing Void,
covered
with Cimmerian emptiness, unblessed in the whirling wild
Chasing
the future
but
returning to yesterday, an eerie realm of unfathomable mystery
forever
seducing me into a vastness of death ineffable & unforgiving
whispering
softly like a lost lover, smothering me with her succulent breasts
as we plummet & vanish into nowhere
