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In The Absence Of Life
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Published Works
This morning I forgot how to love.
Parading my anger silently through the
embattled house.
I sat under a glow of amazement
under the impression that the
day would not get any better.
My pulse strikes irregular
in the measurement of life.
I am who I am
because
that is the only way
I learned to survive.
And I might be accused of
countless crimes, but keep in mind
that my main crime
has been learning how to cope
in an indifferent or hostile
sort of place.
I find I am almost
always unprepared to defend myself
against a smoking gun of
accusations. Endlessly firing
bullets of malice into
an embittered, shattered soul.
Like a battering ram the topic
shifts from one error to another.
all of which I assume I am
responsible for.
I am at fault for everything.
I accept the blame and the shame
that comes from marring your
perfect world with my presence.
As I sit and recognize
all of my short-comings,
on my shoulder sits a
small image of myself.
Its
voice shouts into my mind.
It is the sound of
an insane man,
laughing, laughing, and laughing
