I am never alone
with only myself.
Oh what a luxury
loneliness could be!
I wake screaming
soaked in sweat.
For a moment's silence
one may give the soul itself.
How empty are the times
of sweet-smelling smiles
when falsehood reeks beneath.
What horror there is
in a blunder,
for the taunting of a thousand
follows quickly in it's wake.
A stranger unto myself,
a monster in a sack of flesh-
I am never alone
with only myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your heart is both older and younger than your declared years and it shines powerfully through your words. I've just read the first ten of yours and it's clear that you have a first rate mind, mastery of the language and considerable potential as a poet. Your idealism is worth defending for all your worth.... this was a pleasure. I'll be back for more. Thanks. jim