Empties

By Cliff Lake

 

Empties

 

The night becomes

Dislighted.

Shades enter –

Patches of not dark,

Nor graylight,

But nonlight.

They are here,

Nonexisting and real,

The Empties:

Nothingness disclosed,

Segments of unbeing.

They are impossible.

This is not how things are.

This is how things are now.

You have drifted to the Unplaces,

Where things are not,

And you must be not also,

If you are to remain.

The Empties have come,

They coruscate with unreality,

Unsparkling,

Displaying the madness of misconsciousness,

An invitation to unself.

A congregation of envoidments beckoning,

A persuasion of not insanity,

But to unsanity.

An unravelling of being to be

Other.

This will not be how things are.

This is how things are now.

The air here is now too thick,

Your every breath takes on weight,

Swallows of existence,

Gulps of reality,

Before you unbecome.

The Empties have come,

And are not here,

And will take you anyway.

This is the October Hour:

Normality is a mere suggestion…

 

Cliff Lake 10/1/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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