Nihilia

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There is an unbearable

sweetness

in your mouth,

the same that

slowly

lacerates

your stomach,

telling you that

hatred is only

bitter

when it is

of others.

There is not a

trace

of antiquity’s disasters

and the tragedy of

Greats

has been lost to the

Vesuvius.

yet,

you cling

and pine,

envisioning

substitutes

for your existence.

(Nothing too deep,

nor too shallow,

just indefinite enough

to lose meaning.)

And you never know

why

we fear

fire and water

but not

earth and wood.