Loser Loser Effing loser; The word echoes in my chamber Of thought, in my chambers Of doubt: in all there is and all That ever beckoned, in all that will Forever be, forever become And eventually be Bequeathed; Loser Loser Effing loser, The word that will evermore echo In my heart.
Part of me knows the truth: The second floor flooring Wonโt collapse; yet a part of me Knows the truth: any day now.
Part of me knows the truth: The roof wonโt dislodge and land In my immaculate garden; yet A part of me knows, and panics Every time the wind blows.
Part of me knows the truth: The world will not end Before my time is up; yet a part Of me, the self, disconnected From the world of men, knows The world will end Before my time.
Part of me knows the truth: There is no truth, this is only Me in a state of pretend Paranoia.
I saw the sunset over Santorini, The desperate dying of a day Like our love destined to fade; I saw the sun sink beyond me, My thoughts turned to Thera: Her passion once erupted while Mine, oh mine, this cold northern Heart without passion or pine Looked upon the pairs of doves Desperately seeking love In the setting sun of Santorini.
We joked of men coming, Of men with purpose, Of men bringing white jackets With extra long sleeves.
We joked of men coming, Of men with stern faces, Of men in white coats coming To lock me up.
We joked of men coming, Of men with hateful eyes, Of men sent to incarcerate The one true self.
We joked once long ago, voices In unison laughing at the prospect Of men coming for me, me, me But their gods chose my final frock: A white jacket with extra long sleeves.
Beyond my breaking belief An abode; the bell every hour On the hour summoned the Dead And the Dreary, the Worried And the Weary; A branch off a master trunk Old as the dusty dreams Said to be the only truth Worth clinging to; Beneath a dust cover high above Rattling remains of one who spoke At length and at depth and at Everyone and everything Congregated; now silence fill The void left to those still present: The Dead and the Dreary, The Worried and the Weary, in an Abode far beyond My fascination.
Breathless boredom and chains I cannot feel; cannot turn this wheel Of fortune: I wish I could Go beyond, break their glass ceiling: Invisible dreamless foe, One you insist keep me Earthbound, keep me Unfound and Unremembered; As time moves on, ticking โ tocking I remain. I remain. I remain still As stillness sought By a chastised child, Out of breath but bound To steaming trains and By invisible chains Of boredom.
A dishwasher for the soul, I miss A dishwasher for the soul; maybe A washer-dryer would do To cleanse and clean To scrub and scour The dark demons and dreary dreams; To start afresh, the smell of roses Purged and missed No longer: .
