What is pain?
An ill constructed metamorphosis
Of rationality gone sour?
Good for nothing other than
Self regulated depression.
To think and to feel is all.
And when emptiness is a bedmate
Who holds you in her arms at night?
When loneliness is not a feeling
So much as a way of life,
What then is our rationality?
Rationality pulls at the worms
Of cogency like a hungry ha-de-da
Dismembering each one,
Tasting the earth of our existences
And then discarding them for dead.
I could be rational; to what end?
So I can justify my pain, my
Depression, my cogency of emptiness?
If I must feel the way I do
I ask just one favour:
That you do not rationalize me
And condemn me to some
Pseudo justifiable existence.
Life is only rational when you forget to live.
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Comments about this poem (Rationality by Mathew Lewis )
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