Lament Of A Drunk

NOTES TAKEN WHILE DRUNK AND HIGH The edge of the world. The edge of my window ledge. I look out over nothing. A blacken sky outlinning dead trees. Wires hung in space. Streching out to an eternity of nothing. The sounds of a car starting up. In the distance, and echo of a train. It calls. Carry me...carry me away. A street lamp outlined against a bleak and lonely house. Where I'm I going? I wish I know. Nowhere. Nowhere. Die. Die. Laugh. Laugh. Life's a laugh. A laugh and a kick. I am tired of laughs and kicks. I wish I was dead. I'm tired of running. I wish. I wish. I wish I was dead. I've been dead since I was born. A piece of rotting flesh. Someone, something awaken me, Please! I'm useless. Without being. Without self. A laughless clown. A clown unto myself. I wish. I wish. I wish so many things. But things aren't self. Myself is without substance. And what is being? Being is self. And I hate myself. I hate my being. I wish me dead. I am dead.Along time ago I kept a journal before they were fashionable. This poem was written in June of 1971. I no longer feel the way I did in this poem but I thought if someone one who is feeling this way would read it they would relize that time does cure a lot things. If not cure, heal. Let me know what you think. Written November 21st, 2001 © on Nov 21 2001 05:52 AM PST   0 • 1