Bottomless Cups

tragedy stimulates ridicule,

will i die a hundred times tonight?

in the face of ruining and fright;

who will laugh at all my helplessness,

tonight?

　

simplicity is something more than you

or i can be for me or anyone.

still you care until the end,

with nothing real to say you stay.

　

we'll die a billion times before

i come right across this night.

tonight

in front of all this ruined spite

who will cry for you this night?

　

not me i have no sympathy,

for tears made from the fakest sea.

i've died for more or less

again, i will see to my own end

　

she the false epiphany,

a dark faux light inside my shade,

she love's what was never made

for us.

　

in my tiny truck of life,

she made things that aren't the light,

yet called herself a love

of just.

　

inside my night of day,

i see you plain as rice.

what's become the absecne

of all bright to that life mistook.

　for something full

my empty cup

bejeweled in nothing but

a want

of something bottomless

Reviews

[_mal]

Could write one million poems in the idea behind those last two lines. First stanza/first two lines is something not many want to talk about