Barathrum At Night

When pyknic tendrils of sweat rack faces
And inebriated lips crack into sobriety,
Obscure night prophecies; life-forecast dreams
Insinuate images of imploding hopefulness;
The lonely pebble encased in a cacoon of vanity
Encompassed by an opaque mist of damning disparity

One sole solution:
Staring heavy into the black firmament,
Obstructing visions, hence concluding futurity.

We are acquiring the might to prevail then
Through the hecatomb of bloody day.