I came this way and was faced with the
Reality of everything and nothing, the
Poison that drips from an ink-blotted
Page and slips through your veins; I came
To feel something.
I am not my thoughts but a separate
Entity, floating in the womb as does
Road kill cowering above itself, watching the
Humbug of the flies, ravens, and cars come through.
You and I talked of winter as if it were always –
There, that suspended animation that lets us watch
Things with horn rimmed spectacles; you and I never wore
Coats when there was ice and snow.
And here she is, walking on the ice
Of a deep pond – or an ant hanging from a cliff –
Trying not to slip and determined
Not to be a number or an abstract
Representation of those who have tried in spring.
And what am I, but a shallow-end swimmer who
Hops from lily pad to lily pad; I am the
Abominable toad who croaks when no one hears,
Nor when anyone cares to hear, my cries of desperation
Are like the monotony of this arbitrary world.
And she is something more than a tightrope walker
Who treads the thin line of dream and reality,
Where all around her, people continue on
Venerating the nihilism of vanity in the crazed
Dance of summer days.
I came this way to feel something.