late again.
here,
sleep eludes this edge:
too much light
and not enough angle
for contrast.
her, him and me,
a triumvirate
ready for the revolution
or for Nero to play
with it all again.
and there ...
of matches and lunatics
each wonders which fits
them best,
we hold a sweepstake
and take a chance
except,
fortune can't come here,
not here where even vacant
shadows walk alone.
we had a life
once,
with boxes ticked,
arrows set due north.
destroyed it all
to touch ...
nothing,
stared at the abyss,
fucking jumped,
fell,
screamed defiance -
never easy when only
whispers remain
to give.
and that cunt Nietzsche lied!
the abyss doesn't give
a shit,
it never looked back
once.
Honorable winner
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