Existence is futile

Existence is futile when will it end ? 
As the days go by, it gets harder to pretend. 
Pretend that I am stable or even a little able. 
Able of living, able of giving myself 
whole heartedly and abundantly. 

Existence is futile the days have begun to blend.
Blend into ominous clouds of emptiness.
Emptiness of the mundane, it fills me with disdain. 

This existence is killing me the lack of spontaneity. 
Filling me with self-loathing. Aimlessly, I’m roaming
Floating un-bespoken in this morbid reality.
Where all that flourishes is aimless vanity.

So I relish in the superficial 
and give my all in the purely visual. 
As existence is futile and will soon end.