The great flood.
All I know is that I am not in straight lines anymore
I am unorganized.
I am un-anything.
All the possibilities flew by when I was unawake
And the possibility of sleeping was all that I
ever longed for.
I sit in the lazy shadows,
Surrounded by my treetops, insurmountable
And dissolve into shrinking lakes,
Coloured blue by my tears.
Liquid expanses of melancholy,
So great that I forget the speck on the shore
is a man. I share my air with creatures who
came from the lake to drink my tears,
until they were not hungry anymore
and instead I flooded whole towns, districts and counties
with my sobbing.
Everything swept away like Noah and the
You couldn’t even imagine it.
I have lain for hours with puffs of cotton
In my ears, lying
To the boy who knocks on my door.
I hear the faint tac tac tac of the nails
He hammers in one, by one, by one.
His reactions do not take my world by surprise
Because no one has every really understood
that when everything I do feels like dying,
there is no possibility of ever feeling