better than love. What love is this that
conceals hatred? Tell me, is it true that my alienation
is nothing but
your love's negation? Is it true that this
is dark, so dark, this dark
For then this pure annihilation
and love's negation
This darkness then,
is pristine pain.
Read out my poem; love qua love.
Some use language better than love. This love then
becomes only language. The language then
becomes sole love. But all else dissolves
into a rare nothingness, a dark void-
a pit of horror and bliss.
Language; my abyss.
Tell me why we must then know
The light on the bridge which burns just so
Tell me why I see it burn
Why I cry- but never learn
Never learn, in all it's starkness
Our horrid dissolving mutual darkness.