Apathy: my sole company today.
A privileged affliction I know,
But one that's so hard to shake.
People pass by my window,
Clouds flung like dirty cotton balls
Across a slate grey sky
As the indifferent evening slowly falls.
In articulate atrophy I pass
The threadbare of the night,
Swathed in cotton words of poetry,
Subsisting on their artificial light.
Retracing her signature that soon
Faded from the sheets when she left,
Alone with adjectives dying to be fleshed.
Come on Wind tear me asunder,
Flay the flesh off my back.
Sea plunge me into your waters,
Among the rocks and the wrack.
Life come thundering through me,
Come knock down my door.
Love come smashing the matter
To smithereens. Because
Lately it seems that life
Is being lived elsewhere.