1.
It is almost morning.
I have tried sleeping
Seven times already,
Eyes squeezed shut
In the face of wakefulness.
The cicada probably perches
On a window, outside
My room, resolute -
Its strident song
Replaces my darkness with noise.
And this is how
Our stories never end.
Exeunt Actor one;
Fuck your inconveniences.
The parody must play on.
2.
The sun will soon be seen
Nodding its head with sympathy
At the ones that wouldn't sleep.
One must imagine Sisyphus happy-
How else would you tell yourself
It's alright to keep living
And leaving, and let the
Next knife plug the last wound?
This is alright, we are
All quite okay, nearly there.
All our emptinesses await another
Refill, please, hurry up now.
We'll win, waiting in endless
Entropy, imagining happinesses in sliding spectacles.
Can you feel me leave?
3.
I think the cicada's finally asleep.
Maybe I'll turn the lights out
For a minute, before the day
Takes this dear desolation captive again.
We promise, to keep returning, to
Keep going for going's sake.
Honestly, darling, it's easier
To lie here, sans light, sans sound, than
To lie to a lover, keep the ball rolling,
Exeunt, self. Fuck this.
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