For Cioran

A lonely man plods the sidewalk
Zebra crossings open up to him
It is nothing, they say
He nods quietly and agrees

The young add music to jazz it up
He is unaware, they don’t tell him
Not caring, you do as you please
It is all inconsequential to me

They digest his words
Find meaning meant or not
It is all inconsequential to me
Remembering the old days of youth

They look up to him like a prophet
He finds it quite absurd as he should
They admire him all the more for it
His nihilism their only real escape

Shame? There is no shame, we do our best
Even the worst justify themselves
There are no excuses; only total responsibility
We rise up, fall down, and lick our wounds

Whether we learn or not is inconsequential
The finger in the socket is shocking
The penis in the vagina is life
The penis in the arsehole is accepted

Trends come and go and come again
If we are lucky, time escapes us
Heroes & heroines are cremated
It is all inconsequential to me