Holes

The emptiness that tempts sleep
to simply fade far far away
It is the smoke of a burnt out candle,
choking, suffocating entangling. It is
the facade of a fatal kiss
drawing the breath, invading
surrounding, occupying but intangible.
It is the feeling of incomplete,
a vastness that occupies , yet is barren
the emptiness of the soul. Wreck less
puppet-erring of the body, with the
charred remnants of the will
Floating effortlessly, uselessly in this void.
They are the holes that fill
our every futile breath
Unanswered questions torment existence
refuted faith, left to rot in its hole.
The holes that haunt the living,
When reality ebbs mercurial,
The holes that dissolve the dead.
Nandi 12-27-07