My memory is alive
Beneath folds of disease
I have exclusive access
To its power of release
But I cannot use it
No matter how I try
To break the surface
Of everyday life
I am looking down
At a dirty street
I have no place to sit and
I have no place to eat
Who is responsible for
This particular loss?
I don't need hands to know
What this chain of events will cost
I choose not to foam at the mouth
I separated out
The rough from the raw
And found that there was nothing more
So I drank
Then I sat in a chair
And tried to carve things in the air
Where I fell for despair
There are undergarments
Showing through
The glassy waters
Of a deep black pool
I will fish them out
With a wooden stick
I will hold them up to
The light; they're sick
Historical figures
Shudder into view
Anonymously
They sway in unison
They struggle, unaware
To meet in ages
Is that so bad?
The dogs all stop to look
I choose not to foam at the mouth
I separated out
The rough from the raw
And found that there was nothing more
So I drank
Then I sat in a chair
And tried to carve things in the air, just over there
Where I fell for despair