death will contain less than this

Perhaps she didn’t care

Or didn’t understand

But she left me standing there

Alone with my mind

And I wept for her face

For my own disgrace

I was alone

All alone

All alone

In this worthless place

I stood

I spoke

I ate

And slept

But all that made me

Was the lusty red fire

That waltzed within me

I was not worthy

I was not sane

I despised the ground

And what was all around

She stitched up my spine

Casually glued the parts

Of my broken insides

She was disinterested in my words

Too vague, too absurd

That hard black cloud is

Sinking down

I see it clouding

Up this ground

I say I will survive

But heaven help me

I see no way out

Tomorrow is blank

Today is blank

What can be more delightful?

Then all this

Blurred out days

With blurred out people

I see no use

In standing on this earth

I comb my insides

For something to go

Something to move me

To please me

But I find nothing

But a slate

Saying:

GO BACK

So I conclude

I am nothing

After all

Nothing to this place

Nothing to that place

Just a number

Another unavailable space

Perhaps death

Will contain less then this

As Bukowski said