O, HysteriaA Poem by AtticusBlack
'Obsession is the single most wasteful human activity, because with an obsession you keep coming back and back and back to the same question and never get an answer.' - Norman Mailer.
Sir, I’m puzzled, I’ve got a question for you.
Once I’ve asked it, could you please give an answer?
Or... if there’s no answer... well then you could
Just acknowledge that I asked it, that’d be delightful.
Or he could f*****g acknowledge my existence,
My existence on this forsaken planet I’m forced to call home.
Do you remember all the times we spent together?
I’m only wondering, because I can certainly say that I don’t.
I don’t at all remember the day when he was
Asleep, lying in the grass while the midday sun
Shimmered in his telling chestnut eyes.
I don’t really remember later that day, either,
When we lay under the stars together,
And I showed him the Plough and the North Star.
‘One can certainly say that, without any difficulty,
I remember so vividly the times we spent together.
Do you recall when we awoke alongside each other,
My arm around you, my eyes lost in the tropics of yours?
Do you remember the occasion when we walked
For so long that we forgot about everything but each other?’
If I’m honest, sir (O, almighty, ingenious, omniscient one),
Before you answer could you please examine the passage I’ve written?
It’d be so kind of you to do so, if not -
Well, if not then you may as well just add some cyanide to
My water: to starve my body of energy by
I’ll tell you this for free, my friend, whom I possibly
Trust more than most: he has already starved my body of energy,
In fact, he does every time I see him, and every time I don’t.
And my message? Love never, unless you like feeling weaker
Than if you’d not eaten for a week. Fin.
© 2010 AtticusBlack
Shelved in 1 LibraryAdded on January 13, 2010
Last Updated on February 9, 2010
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