The world once looked clear, black and white,
The floor seemed solid,
One day it broke,
And I fell into a void, yet lit with light,
The colors mixed together gray, becoming indistinguishable,
Then burst in blue, orange, and every color conceived,
Whirled and flashed, meaningless,
Made me sick.
Someone once argued I was an Absurdist, rather than a Nihilist,
I prefer the label Nihilist,
It's the dissatisfaction I think, sickness and anger, frustration and horror,
Intellect at odd with Instincts learned or innate.
Absurdist's in my view, give up in a way somehow, accept the existence of it all,
The insanity of it all,
Somehow seem too 'happy.
Nor do I care to call myself an Existentialist,
Such a title seems to imply one can create or manage meaning,
But it's all illusion, a lie.
Better to admit such, even if one cannot help moving.