I envy you.
You who would sit and write at ease.
Lyrical and profound,
Words would pour
And with a lot of meaning too.
And will all nod and bow to it.
And will all envy too.
While I sit and gaze emptily at this blank morbid sheet
And struggle for voice, my voice.
Ah what would I give to
Open up that tight cork in my throat
And pour forth the bile, the black bile
Acerbic and angry as it is
And turn all the roses in the world black with my venom
Or maybe, a very poisonous glittery green!!
You see, when I speak I jump endlessly from shore to shore
From a thought to another
Until I find my words no more.
Hell would have been easier.
And you would see a set smile
A coldness that would outlive death
All this while I have bled myself
Droplets and millions of red, vividly poisonous droplets have left me
Left me utterly quiet and angry, howling and smiling.
How’s that for your sedate, happy soul?