Around me is a mass of morphing colours;
pink black white pink black
Around me is a dull shopping paradise; a graveyard,
subfusc, dead people with dead minds
scrambling around aimlessly,
wandering in that straight line,
to nothingness, somber.
They are all alive; but it is far too late.
They are owned by these terriying neon colours,
and their crude surroundings. But then again, they still say, let's go shopping. Because it's what they do best.
Like a shop window, entrancing, untoucable.
Wondrous, splendiful.
Dull, dying, dead.
I wear my old Tuesday socks on Friday; and
they say I'm going crazy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is hard being a poet amongst such dower surroundings in human form, but thank the lord for it BWF! This made Tai smile!