1er Soir Apres La Rentree

So it looks like all I’ve got now is what’s in this pocket.

Memories don’t fit,

so I slip them to the wind.

Run away again,

do you think this is something I need?

Do you think I like to be bitten?

I see these walls surrounding your faces,

strange faces,

stories of lifetimes I no longer care to know.

I have been lost,

and you all have lost me too,

I see.

I look inside,

then in this little pocket to see what I’ve got –

a wad of cash and a few pieces of paper,

some soviet smokes and the keys to my cell.

This is not my world.

as I had once hoped,

but now I see this is a foreign place to me,

I am alien.

I look in this pocket,

what I’ve been given to finish

whatever it is I must do here.

I look and see my work,

my words,

words of welcome,

expressions of friendship,

but none of you knows what I keep in my pocket,

and you never will.

I am a liar,

and a mocker,

and I suffer from emptiness.

Well,

what did you expect?

Why did you call me friend?

Have we given each other something,

exchanged something?

Do you know me?

Is you life different without me?

That is why I look to this pocket –

to see what’s left

and to know what is mine.

But,

do not call me friend,

for such we are not.

I am an island here,

in this world,

in your world.

I am alien,

nakedly clutching the meager contents of my pocket.

A wad of cash,

some paper,

and some soviet smokes.

That is all I have to fight the emptiness?

.

But what do you know of emptiness?

Or for that matter,

of completeness?

Who are you to judge what you cannot fully see?

Can you speak of my love,

of what I have tasted and helped to shape?

Who are you to believe I am as simple as what the surface belies?

Fly, Blindness!

I have no room in my heart

for your sadness,

and your biting words are nothing –

only words.

Yes,

it’s sad with only this pocket,

and this handful of life.

But I have loved like none can imagine.

I have loved purely and deeply and solemnly.

Fly away blindness!

And send your biting words to the wind.

They will not fit in this pocket.

.

10.11.98

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3 responses to “1er Soir Apres La Rentree

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