Gulf Of Existence Poem by Norman F. Santos

As I peel myself to nakedness
My grotesque form seeping out
And trying to slither away
From their vindictive stares
I seek for displacement
In scouring ebonies and ivories
Only to unfurl the answer
That basks in another question
“Why am I here? ”
And I thought staggering
“And not here at all? ”
Like a farcical candle at noon time
Prick and twist the wick
With the flame hollering back
For survival, for a game
Amongst porcelains and tramps
I have lost my place
In the scornful prairie grounds
Whilst I persih vying.
This is inane and pointless.
I need a gulf of existence.