Tomorrow
I shall pack my bags and leave.
I don’t know where.
I don’t know why.
But I know that I shall not be here any longer.
Tomorrow
I pile new absences atop my old ones;
I shall sniff them one more time, and disappear.
The terrazzo shall feel cold beneath my feet,
and the stale smell of the peeling blue walls shall
part ahead of my sadness. The flaps of the doorway
shall embrace me one last time.
And you, you shall not be there.
Tomorrow,
I tear myself out of my life,
and seek myself anew.
Tomorrow,
I shall renounce myself.
Tomorrow
I shall hone my solitude.
(originally posted on October 11, 2003)
I shall pack my bags and leave.
I don’t know where.
I don’t know why.
But I know that I shall not be here any longer.
Tomorrow
I pile new absences atop my old ones;
I shall sniff them one more time, and disappear.
The terrazzo shall feel cold beneath my feet,
and the stale smell of the peeling blue walls shall
part ahead of my sadness. The flaps of the doorway
shall embrace me one last time.
And you, you shall not be there.
Tomorrow,
I tear myself out of my life,
and seek myself anew.
Tomorrow,
I shall renounce myself.
Tomorrow
I shall hone my solitude.
(originally posted on October 11, 2003)
1 comment:
Generally pleasant and well-written. The part “The terrazzo… you shall not be there” is especially Dalidish, which is pleasant. Nothing extraordinary, however. I do not know if I quite approve of the overly childish “I don’t know where/ I don’t know why.”
Ton frère Ahmad
Post a Comment