Feast

I’m afraid you misunderstood. I didn’t come here to join you in your feast. you think I’m smiling because I absorb your words I only absorb the spark in the eyes of those who lie and wooden wings and pagan rituals. people used to praise the Sun now they stealthily adore it till the last drop. I’m afraid you’re mistaken. you went too far and lost your home my home doesn’t have walls or a mother or a friend or a telephone. next year they’ll be making money out of clay children won’t go to school so they’ll collect rocks in their bags and wait in front of gates. I’m afraid you’ve stolen me. I prayed to the bouquet of flowers on my bed (which isn’t even mine anymore) for it to listen to me once. who will listen to me when the bouquet of flowers sent me violins and a late grandfather and an old friend and something that sometimes resembles will. I’m afraid you’ve stolen me and are already moving on. I think I shall keep loving.