Sunday, February 6, 2011

Empty Days In the Desert

Empty days.
Stuck in this desert
upon which I stumbled
As if it were a rock.
And not a flat terrain.
Rain!
Rain on me the indifference,
the desires, the angry curses...
Still, I will not budge
towards the oasis
which lies ahead.
The still water -- the color of lead --
speaks of all the dead that we have not buried.
Whose ashes roam
and permeate my brain
with the unspoken nostalgia
for return.
NO!
Burn!
Burn further into nonexistence
untill there is nothing, no one, NONE!
Empty days.
Castrated.
Futile.
Like an aging nun.

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