Tuesday, September 27, 2016


Once I have gone

the ghosts of your discontent will devour the landscape entirely.

As an imitation of the genuine, the world will unfold as a stage that you have set for yourself, and yourself alone.

As eating in isolation has the effect of being eaten

this over-acted tragedy with no chorus and no audience.

Playing the victim, like a performance where all parties are playing the victim

Pantomime Rendering the mask of your own lies,

confronting the masks of yourself.

You will break, because you are soft.

crumble in the moment,

realistically never reaching the moment at all

lacking in the capacity to do so.  

Knowing this grants me no solace,

Sharing in some derogatory atonement.

to be released of this charade

where sirens wail in the distance

the low rumble of the streets

putting the proletariat to sleep in mechanical whispers

No comments:

Post a Comment