The human suffering is my life's project How could I ever turn my back on it
All the images of loss I had painted On my own cold concrete Berlin wall Paintbrush dipped into a catalog color "Dark ocean of despair" Smearing it cautiously on the rough surface Protecting the still innocent from the ricochets
Oh the number of books that I had written About another restless soul stuck in limbo Circling the globe on a boat called "Oblivion" I shoot them into my not so public library in the sky Riding on the back of a spark flying from my sympathetic heart Only to allow their sad glow to forever illuminate the top of my head
An archive of movies stored in a chamber of my heart Categorized into natural human disasters All written and directed by me Starring every soul that ever exposed itself to mine On a hot sticky night with a glass of wine In a dusty desert wearing dark green uniform On the grassy banks of a beautiful European canal Their silent cries for help are the soundtrack of my life The shot of an unfallen tear I could never cut out
The pain of a life lived internally, A bag of beautiful intentions bursting at the seams Are the substance of the blanket I cover myself with When I try to fall asleep Who would I be without it?