Tag Archives: nihilism


Talking to Alice as she smokes outside the restaurant

where she works as a waitress, in a hokey red and pleated

uniform, some salt-of-the-earth and down home nonsense.

The smoke stinks, and I know it’ll stick to my clothes,

and I’ll smell it on the ride back home afterwards,

but it’s worth it, to be near here, to fell a closeness in winter.

Alice is like me, close to forty, not where we want to be,

so we tell off-color jokes and talk about how the war

ruined it all, and how children are the cruelest mistakes.

Her shift starts in a few minutes, and she’ll go in, and so will I,

and she’ll get to work, and I’ll eat the heavy, greasy food here,

just because I got to steal a few minutes with her.

With someone who knows it’s all going to burn.

French Woman

French woman singing on the radio, calling to me from the dark

of this Berlin apartment, as the night passes by without sleep.

A song I’m sure is full of love and tenderness, though I can’t understand.

Another war is brewing. Another pointless sacrifice, that will change nothing.

And still that French woman sings of something pure and sweet.

I think of walking hand in hand with a pretty women, when it’s all really done.

But it will never be done. It’s just the same tired shit on and on forever.

I know I go in the morning, to face the awful thing they’ve done.

French woman sings, I know, of something good and pure and sweet.

I listen, try to hold onto her voice like the last beam of light from the sun.

There will be so little of it left, after all the fire that is to come.

It Gets To Be A Habit

It seems like it’s never worth it.

To fight against the weight of their ignorance.

Their uncaring, unhearing, uncomprehending.

All the blood of your dreams, the afterbirth of your tears,

the screaming of your broken thoughts, gets tossed aside.

You get Jesussplained. You get told to suck it up.

You get told what you’re REALLY feeling.

You get assholes who don’t want their mellow harshened,

with your sorrow and pain and fear.

So you just smile and joke and laugh, and sing for your supper.

Social lubricant, the phony smile.

But all that bad shit is still there, still eats at you,

still the demons hound you. Still the dreams go blank.

And you’ve so successfully buried your feelings,

you feel nothing at all, not even the hate or the rage.

You become even phonier and emptier and deader.

No matter what, you end up alone with death.


The Night Is Without Mercy

Awake in the middle night. There will be no more sleep.
Daylight seems like it will never come, some broken promise.
Thoughts of the world burning, of evil winning forever and ever.
I try to remember hope, and sweetness, a beautiful lover to adore.
But I am alone in the dark, without hope, without the solace of touch.

There’s a rumble in the distance, a dark god clearing his throat
before he screams the storm down upon us, just to do it, just to hurt us.
So much pride in human hearts, so much pious cruelty, sanctimonious death.
The light and the dark don’t seem so different, when the blood is spilled.
The night is without mercy, and the storm washes away all the world.

 It seems like an eternity ago, a whole other life, a whole other world,
when a woman lay beside me, when we were at peace holding each other.
When the rain was a whisper of some gentle angel, giving us sweet dreams.
We had hope of all that white picket fence bullshit, of a family, or happiness.
She’s long gone, and both of us our dead even as we live, lost to all warmth.