Tuesday, September 02, 2014

They sink into me

Suddenly I’m all talkative and apologetic.
I’m not used to seeing myself like this.
From ping to ping my thoughts sound more pathetic …
You say it’s ok, after all we are human.
What on earth do you know of that? and of
madness and inferences and going berserk?

I watch a giant ant crawl into my closet,
followed by a second one, now it is a street,
sitting in the middle of the crossroad
between dusty shelves and cleared out pockets
I’m waiting for something to jump
-         -  nothing jumps.

But I cannot say this to you. So many things I cannot say.
For instance that
soon we will all turn into silver.

Then I am back to the books, and this guy
sorts magazines on my desk, MIT and Harvard out of the blue
only the best of the best. You start talking about business.
All I can hear is tired dreams and numbness. Your words are heavy.
They sink into me and stay for days.
You never tell me how to get rid of them.
All I can do is going numb and forgetting about you.