Rot Shall Rule the Oily Voids

What remains of us We, the consumed Denuded, expended To chasms cast, where meaning was They leer at us, those roiling nulls Like scornful empty sockets That cradle ghosts of purpose All is shadow and space All is terror and shame No color, no structure, no weight No order, no reason, no shape Beyond the snowblind eyes of gods Whose cruel designs in nightmares crest In these great pits, we come to rest What rot shall rule these oily voids? What remains of us at all?