Ink Blot


Falling and falling


into the abyss


Where light cannot dwell

all souls remain here,

in this cauldron of fear


Declaring yourself dead on the spot,

the minute you arrive

blotted out with ink


A name forgotten,

sunken in time,

claimed by a ghost


severed from the source,

a hollowed out gourd,

nothing but empty air


No memory of what was before,

only the myth and the lie

of one.






Author's Notes/Comments: 

Spiritually lost, hollow nihillists, searching for their souls. 

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