|
Alone COLD IS THE BED ALONE THAT THE MAN SLEEPS IN.
ALONE ARE THE MOMENTS WHEN THE FRENZY STOPS, AND HE WEEPS IN.
THE WEEPING MAN IS FOOLISH FOR HIS TIME, HIS FEELINGS, HIS WANTS, AND HIS WHATEVER ARE OF NO CONCERN.
BESIDES THE BODIES THAT REST AGAINST HIM, THE SOFT VOICES THAT SOMETIMES WELCOME HIM, IT IS NOT MUCH DIFFERENT FROM THE HELL IN WHICH HE MIGHT BURN! HE MUST LISTEN, MUST PURCHASE, MUST BE SENSTIVE, MUST BE ATTENTIVE, MUST GIVE HIS ALL AND THEN SOME MORE.
WHILE ON THE OTHER SIDE, THE SAME IS NOT A GIVEN RATHER A TAKEN, AND AT THE FIRST SIGN OF RESISTANCE BY HE, HE IS SHOWN THE DOOR!
I AM MOST TIMES THE WRONG MAN AND THE OPENING DOOR WHEN IT HAS BEEN OPENED AND OPENS IS HEARD CREAKIN’.
THAT IS WHY IT IS MOMENTS LIKE THIS THAT TEARS I SHED AND ALONE IS THE BED I SLEEP IN. - by the Greatest Poet Alive
|
