If I wore a watch, which I don’t
Because of the sweat I’d know I was behind time.
Time is relative but no relation of mine.
I might have missed it.
I am almost certain.
I feel the truth, and God knows nothing.
Do I still have a rendezvous with life?
I wonder when I will begin to live.
Introspective, on a jaundiced cot,
Oppressed by the droning of wavelengths,
Discontented by the clicking of puny arms,
In the basement of a pre war building,
Grappling with the thought my life is without meaning.
I sleep with the rodents.
They shit on the table I eat at.
There has to be more than this.
We miss out on the best this world has to offer.
New York City is a home I can’t afford.
I sleep in my clothes plotting my departure.
If I could turn all the clocks back I’d love to start over.
gablesworth 