Embrace of Absence

I have looked to my beacon

in this desolated void.

My one ounce of meaning

made me overjoyed.

As it turns out, she's scarred.

What I thought could not be,

her beauty even more unpared,

is to me a new reality.

I want to embrace a new form of madness,

and hurtle towards a bright midnight

where I lose recollection of all sadness

and of what is wrong and what is right.

Alas, I cannot venture to the endless night

while the beacon, my earthly god,

continues to burn so bright,

destroying my empty facade.

Society holds no reserve;

those who cannot fuck

tend to serve

those with better luck.

Dionysus weeps for all.

Our primeval dreams

are in a free fall,

or so it seems.

My disguise will go on

when I have gone away.

My false smile moves along;

it's all that matters anyway.

Why do I stay?

What is intervening?

It is my beacon, or so I say;

she who gives me meaning.