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Poem

I sat in the rain with the world at my feet
and I sighed.
Staring into it's eyes; it's limitless gaze.
I swooned amidst the tragedy of a starving visage.
I cried at the birth of morning light;
Of the sun dappled vastness; the twittering congregation
that scorned my affections with ignorant, cheerful song.

The rain continued to fall in shivering waves.
Each droplet a wish I never made,
a promise I never kept,
a conclusion I never dared dream.
While the trees sang in unison, each leaf rejoicing
as my screams refused to interrupt their hedonistic sunrise.

The morning opened its jaws; wide, loose and jagged,
like the sharpened words of an ex lover.
It spoke to me in tongues and sang to me in Dutch.
I sat abashed, vainly interpreting such linguistically tainted insight
with a gaping mouth and clenched fists.
Revelling in the sadness of misunderstanding.

I merely nodded then, smiling warmer than the rising sun,
pretending that I had the slightest idea
as to what the morning was all about.
It laughed in my face.
Offering me a hand and a look of condemnation,
with a saddened smile that was too brief to register.
Our palms met and I shuddered at the plainness of its touch.

Onward we walked, as I marvelled at my fellow inmates.
Rotten fruit of damaged trees, walls left unpainted,
Stories that had reduced their writers to tears and disbelief.
Tangled, weeping, sceptics.
Erudite destruction.
I would have screamed, had the night not already covered by mouth
with the dark skin of a slender, furtive hand.

I watched with disdain, knowing I was among my kin;
I was one of the townsfolk in a city long since created
and left to crumble in ruins.
I felt the bile rise in my throat and the air leave my lungs
as I began to run back into darkness.

I turned my head so blithely that the morning shed a tear.

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