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correspondences
correspondences
the first day after
he threw himself out of heaven….
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hello misery,
could you whisper to me
a sad, slow, soothing story
of love and life in the wintertime
between the soulfully estranged?
better yet, show it to me
in a slow, boring exchange
of hand signals
-a conversation between mutes
who keep silence
for their own safety-
i yearn to watch the message
spelt out
in movements, fluid motions
tell me a riddle-make me a puzzle
blind my third eye and talk to me
make me see
draw the curtains, i thirst to know
what happens when the february moon
refuses to show. please misery do not go
become my avatar of woe
be my friend.
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after scoring the pills…
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hey misery,
why do you deny to speak with me?
i am lost in a labyrinth of thorn
bushes and a storm is brewing
over the hills.
i hear the hail pelting the ground
it sounds like a military drum
and the night time sky screams
battle cries,
and arms itself for war.
open gashes from the kisses of thorns
cover my body. i am naked and
outside awaiting the storm
and you can save me
give me sanctuary, a place to rest my
tired bones. sing to me a lullaby
a 12 bar blues lament for the fading night
give me somewhere to go.
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20 years of overdosing on life later…
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oh please misery,
can't you see? the sky of the
night is about to flee
and i will be left at the station
so i can't get home.
here i am in a foreign land
with no guide to show me the way
no tongue for me to talk with,
i am lost, alone, and very
afraid.
so on this platform i shall reside
until the next twilight train pulls in
but my patience is wearing thin
why do you do this?
i hold my hand and raise my thumb
towards the sky, but you just
pass by and my anger grows,
for i just want to go home,
i just want to go home.
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now he's coming down, from the high…
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goodbye misery.
you have failed me, or was it
the other way around
you tell me?
grant me this final wish.
i have taken matters into
my own hands, so i wont be
talking to you anymore
but let me leave with this;
my own story that i have learnt:
"there is nothing left for the king
words of disharmony escaped
through the hidden door
of his trojan horse heart.
irrevocable, irreversible, shallow
empty. there are rain drops falling
behind those glassy eyes
yet the sun still shines and
clouds keep reforming; patterns of
loneliness. happiness evades.
and the poor, beaten king, the lustre
of his gold fades, and the anger
in his voice does not convey his desire
for a quiet life. yet he knows
that this day will come, but he wishes for it
soon."
goodbye misery
i am leaving you.
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