moving furniture all afternoon
a lie, and something slipped into her coffee
her terror and desperation
tried to get the neighbors to help her
a passion play written by Polanski
sent to the emergency room last night
ripped apart her room at the home
A grown woman hiding in a stranger’s closet.
“HE KILLED ALL HIS CHILDREN AND STOLE ALL MY MONEY”
No sleep. An omelet.
Sorting drawers of bricabric
I lie under piled afghans on the couch
The television’s been taken away
The armchair, various furniture
Trundled away to the “home.”
Money hidden everywhere
Take apart the shed in the back yard
Shower.
Drive to Josef K.’s house
and fall asleep in his arms.
Sleep through second saturday
Voraciously reading The Mandarins
with every spare moment, Henri Perron
Scrinasse, Lambert, Nadine
More real than anyone I know.
No one online on the day before Easter.
This evening, Mezzanine is on repeat
I want to crawl inside Josef K. and disappear
Immolation in trite nothingness
Downloading gigabytes of porn
Distraction upon distraction
Can I build a tower high enough
to erase what we’ve done?
Our society’s empty promises and lies
“You’re doing what’s best for her”
I wish I could believe it.
I used to believe in human dignity.
I don’t know what I have left.
Categories: Ennui
