No one informed me,
During the days of loneliness and insecurity,
Of, the sun.
Of, the one.
Of, God’s true existence,
His brave persistence.

They failed to mention,
During the days of apprehension,
The possibility of the opportunity
Of safety, of solace,
Of rescue, of refuge.

Such days those were.
Blind, deaf, dumb, bound, tasteless.
Flat, dull, plastic, damp, soggy.
Days of no living.
The avoidance of death with
Mere existence.

Simple
And
Un
Interesting.
Painful
But
Un
Feeli­ng.

Oh, how I miss those days.
That misery, that idiocy, that confusion.
Oh, or rather, how they must miss me.