Thursday, April 21, 2005

To a Friend whose Death I long for and yet will Mourn.

My friend, I wear
A mourning band
For you, for you, for you
A premature mourning band
For you are not dead yet
But you soon will be
If I have my way

Because, my friend,
You’re no friend of mine
Cloaked in your guise
Of beautiful benevolence
But I sense the hostility
You’ve kept hidden for so long
So, my dear, please don’t insult me

By singing that song
By faking that smile
As I step into the student bar
And see you with those girls
With their gleaming golden curls
And I am speechless, immobile
Crouched in some dark corner

I don’t belong here
And you know it
Here amongst beauty
Amongst these serene and sophisticated beings
And so, my friend, tell me, where do I belong?
In some institution perhaps,
Locked up, doped up

Doesn’t matter where
I just don’t belong here
As long as you are beyond my reach
As long as I am out of your sight

And now I lacerate myself on your brittle bones
Where once there was warm flesh, soft and yielding
I had believed you’d cushion me with compassion
And instead you weave death thoughts around me
I have returned home to find my idol gone
Replaced by a daemon
What witchcraft is this?

I backtrack, making patterns on my skin
The dogs are at my throat
You’re gone, my friend, you’re gone.


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