Inner Self

12/19/04

Untitled – Author with No Name

Depression,
not only visual,
depression like
the gradual erosion
of my being…

What being, after all?

To live = to die
and not the other way around.

Anti-social,
I can’t stand
I cant stand

I can’t
be a column

I cry, cry
and the

r
e
a
s
o
n

so much like this…
far from being
understood.

Your absence,
the riverbed hammering
of “you let me go”
when I ran.
It pecks me like
the eternal crow of Prometheus.