-The
only thing sadder than crying
is being aware of not being able to-
is being aware of not being able to-
he tells himself,
stuck
in a glare pointed out into the wet street,
as
raindrops roll down the window pane before his face.
He
wishes the sky to be his eyes
and
the window pane his cheeks
the
wet road his feet
he
wishes he was slightly more animal
for
want of pure fear
rather
than hatred of whom he fears
he'd
rather nip at scarce blades of grass
In
the deathly heat
than
sleep on heaps of hay in a dark
comfortable
cave
he'd
rather wear his hooves to the bone
than
to decide the best brand of shoe glue
or
which word he can use for
concrete
without
being sued or screwed into
he'd
rather read the information of the skies
with
naïve perceptions
of
gods, Capricorns and light beings
than
with what he is now forced to consider as
scientific,
gaseous and the yet to be defined
He
is forced to walk fifty centimetres
above
the mud of the mangroves,
along
the board walk, pretending.
Just
as he is forced to walk an inch above the one he loves,
pretending
pretending
to be a good man
when
good men don't exist
pretending
to have no lips
because
good men don't try to kiss
burnt
out buildings seem more real
when
he's looking for a place to live
sleeping
shirtless on doorsteps seems more real
than
finding a job to wake up to,
when
the morning suits step on by sweating gel and perfume
-real-
is a human word and so it must be that which he can touch
he
believes
but
he knows there exists a real beyond human touch
a
real that has not yet been copy written
and
crying is not necessary there
and
awareness is worth the same
as
the price of making sense
which
comes to a total of nothing
your
change being everything
and
the ninety ninth sense
he's
not concerned with appealing to
or
marching with
the
masses
even
if that mass is a minority
even
if that mass is thought to have beautiful fur
they
cry together
in
anger together
as
they warn each other of impeding doom
he
prefers the doom of his own solitude
and
the hole of admitting it
he
doesn't expect anyone to throw him a shovel
but
wishes some one would all the same
-the
only thing worse than digging yourself into a hole
is
denying the hole is a grave.-
