Friday, November 30, 2007

Neurosis: In Blank Verse

I stand in the tittering rain
Facing a tinted window;
My clothes tattered,
My toes trembling,
My eyes red from tortuous strain.
I squint so I may behold
What goes on behind translucent doors.
There are people
Seated around a table.
Oh how they talk, how they chatter
How they rattle on
In endless banter.
What they speak I do not hear
But I guess I have a faint inkling.
They laugh at those that aren't present.
Probably at one who stands outside
On tenterhooks;
At times in harsh sunlight,
At times in intimidating thunder.
How endlessly they mock
The plight and the absence
Of near yet faceless strangers.
When they rise to leave,
I leave too
Out of sheer discretion.
I turn back to investigate and to overcome
The supposed last blow to my reputation.
I find no trace of my antecedents,
Or room for my exploits.
The only things left
Are empty wine glasses
And irrevocably scarred pride.

No comments: