I ‘ve been touchy

So long

I’ve been selfish

So long

And awful and insane and sober, too;

And, surprise surprise,

I don’t even know why

Things took this colour

(A dark cold blue)

Life, I suppose.

One day, a couple of months ago, 

A gloomy preacher told me

It doesn’t have to be this way

“Things will turn to dust

An you have to love and love and love again”

But I said 

Preacher, preacher

You know what?

I’d rather be honest and sad

Than close my eyes and hide away.


Poesia n*17


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