they say life is short
but then again
what could i do that would take longer
unless of course
you can conceive it
or for the simple mind
believe it
the concept of eternity
where do you go when you've burned the bridges behind
and the landslides of mistakes have blocked the path ahead
so here i sit
in my place on the floor
startled by the silence
not the kind brought on by serene relaxation
but the anxiety of my own empty procrastination
the never ending tic of the clock that won't wind down
the solemn sigh of a tired clown
hugging the proverbial porcelain of a strangers toilet
where are your friends
they all go home when the party ends
the lifelong hangover now begins
with twisting gut
pounding head
eyes swollen
glossy
red
reaching to the sky
begging mercy
from the god you mocked
have the doors of redemption been closed and locked
good time girls
booze and dope
whatever gets you off
helps you cope
yet still you search for that ultimate high
like you had when you were young
dumb...
you know the line
of countless times
center stage
in this band of rage
has gotten me nowhere
but older than age
what will they say i accomplished
when the tic of my clock ceases to toc
this story is true
be glad it's not you
follow the man who reaches his goal
for when the blind lead the blind
they fall off the cliff of unrighteousness
and the screams fall on deaf ears
so here i sit
in my place on the floor
startled by the silence
not the kind brought on by serene relaxation
but the anxiety of my own empty procrastination
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem