Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Taste

And then I tasted

The salt of the labor
Done in vain
They will never see the light of reality

And then I tasted

The salt of tears
Feeling all hope drain away
Knowing this dream can never be
They carry red knives in golden arms

And then the taste of salt

Led to bitter and gallfilled dreams
Where the longing once fire in bones
Now leaves only an aching feeling
So empty
So lonesome
Withering shutters of the soul

Watch these pathetic scribbled pangs
Or maybe call them
Life's last passionate convulsions


Fetally I lie
And let my eyes try to remember
How to form tears

But this is a new kind of longing
Heartsick for sure
But certain all the same of
The future that will never come

Like an echo of what was
Like a negative photograph
Like the aftertaste of diet soda
Like the aftertaste of arsenic

This is the feeling that greets me now
In quiet hours when others slumber
I shall drink and taste and see
And wish I hadn't

Would I do it again?
How could I just let it go?

No comments:

Post a Comment