waking up to Camus next to my bed to tell me that
knowing that this obnoxiously determined absent soul
doesn't strive to but will live
walls are filled up to the brim, the roof
illustrations and breath of a missing human life
a brilliantly ridiculous beginning
a flow of solid massive things
time moving in two and fro
so! I am now between yes and no
the empty smell of him billowing in my balcony
I have a shirt of his
I wash it evry day
and I put it to dry in the public
I wonder if the neighbours realise
he doesn't live here anymore.
Dishevelled, falling pieces of puzzle
tremendously bored and marvellous
as the day moved on, closed in
fornicated and read the papers.
Am I asking for too much?
I dnt even remember asking anything.
My short story book by Kafka is missing
Is it with you?
Who is it with?
Who is with me?
Trying to watch a black out on a colour TV
Clearer vision I demand
should I get a set top box?
big brother is watching all of us
does the big brother have an equally big sister?
And what does she do?
Sit behind a curtain in the church and hear confessions?
Or enter a brothel by mistake?
Does she get it everynight from a stark revolutionary man?
Is it a wide open radical thought process?
Children, mothers, preganent men
Red light, green light, make up your mind!
This is not original
its just usual
an integral part of my grown up life
like owning a car or falling in love
or wanting to live in images and not arguments.
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