10.03.2014

poem: if I lived there I'd be home by now.

if I lived there I’d be home by now.


I spend my life in
exhaustion,
“working like an ass”
as my teacher’s
teacher would say.
spreading myself
always
too thin.
grinding my self
down
into little pieces,
working the pestle
until there is nothing.

but I don’t want to be
nothing.
I don’t want to dissolve
or merge
or melt
or become one
with anything.
I want to sit next to him
so he can put his arms around me
and tell me
it’s going to be ok.
everything will be
ok.
you
will be
ok.





No comments: