The World Is Too Full to Talk About

No Way Out of The Skin
on stolen grass we sit and smoke, stand and dance
I am happy for a moment and I am stuck inside this happiness
unsure if I should bottle it for later. Am totally paralysed in the face of some
feeling
which seems so noble
but is passing, its meaning escapes me
* * * * * * *
Today at once I understood the pains of the people
I felt the collective horror of it all. some was foreign and new and unbearable
some I had known since birth/ all of us born into this spot of earth at the bottom
of the ocean,
in total obscurity, understand what it means to be crushed.
in our mothers wombs we are assassinated and are born into this living without
life.
* * * * * * * * *
we thought we existed underneath our shirts but when we took them off we
knew
the regime was our skin and blood and bones. The government was the sun, it
was the air.
and when the wind carried with it sand from the desert, that too belonged to the
government.
in our bedrooms we were nobodies. in our bedrooms we felt complicit in the
crimes of the state.
* * * * * * * * * *
with three broken ribs you walk to work
pain is the undertone of life
the carpet of the universe is woven
and the needle is suffering and the thread is suffering
with total inertia, total apathy
the universe exists and you walk to work
** * * * * * * * *
My love for you died recently
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