Self-Hatred, The Romantic Pain
I am shifting sand:
Pebbles, dirt and tiny nuggets,
Veils of rain and stormy seas,
Morning mist and killing fog,
Cracking ice and spreading roots,
A rotting statue and a thriving weed
That flowers boldly in the night
And closes ragged before the dawn.
I am sobs and I am silence.
I am the one who lied when
There was no one there to hear,
A shadow on your memory,
A stain that vanished with the laugh
Of an old friend.
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High School Poetry, 1979-1983
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