If they laugh, if they rage, if they fight
Because their sound-sleep of night
Has been broken by the lonely soul
That does not dream,
He only sees
That they’re all sleep-walking into a hole;
Then let them fall.
But the one who is awake
Will just walk in the shadows,
Wade in the Lethe lakes,
And search for something—
Just to dream!
To at least in some way
Feel as if they’ll say
That he is finally welcome,
That they can perish together.
He will scream
And try his
Best to save
Whatever is left
Of those who
Are drawn into
The pleasing Abyss
And he will face the fact that he is alone.
Memories aren’t all what they used to be,
But never more than what one couldn’t see
With sewn eyes to masks and mirrors.
Yet you never saw life clearer,
Chasing butterflies without intent
Aside crushing the wings of the misfortunate.
That one idea is something seductive;
To remain in a cage, completely unproductive
I see your bondage to your own hand.
“I’m glad that I’ll never see you again”
Said the lips to the liquor.
But this, this flesh, this body
Shall grow anything but stagnant.
This void is mine to hoist and to reign,
Repercussions all the same.
And once never more;
No less compost than a whore.
I’m glad that I’ll never see you again,
Nor this whole pen,
Whether now, then, or ever,
The opaque knows its flaw
When it acts as a mirror.
So now I must ask,
Have you yet to see clearer?