Such repeated Pyrrhic victories it took
for you to see
that the one you used to love, the words
you once could trust,
are gone:
now there’s no one.
But
by some undeserved serendipity
a new dream emerges.
& though we’re only two mammals
who desire the warmth of the other,
we’re also so much more.
Lost in the pressure of the Simulacra,
the strange among strangers
faces
of new buildings
seeming
threatening,
weird & eerie.
Yet all the rest – or so
it seems –
of the animals in the City
are so at ease,
but to me
the noise,
the fumes & traffic, tragic
neglected people forced to sleep
on the streets – “Sorry,
don’t have any change” –
& the oppressive cranes
declaring the domination
of Capital;
the hive-mind
blind to the mantic fury of
the lost
history buried beneath the streets
consume me.
The City disgusts me.
All Gods die a quiet death.
Only silence survives when nothing is left.
In the struggle of existence,
even the winners have to lose.
The odds are always against us,
no matter which side of the line we choose.
Martyrs mistake dreams for pretence,
but nothing exists that makes any sense:
Just pretty pictures to paint over & protect.
Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue
but you seem to have re-written,
the story of what was once you and me;
put as much distance as you can
between then &
now.
Your eyes,
the smiles & the all that time spent together:
eventually the touch of all those memories
will disappear
& only the faintest trace
will remain…
can believing a lie make it a truth?
because I believe in the lie
that you still love me too;
the heart beating beside me every night,
that heart belongs to you.
Wherever we find ourselves next,
whoever else you let into your bed,
the feeling is still in my chest.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Tonight,
I will make my way to you
again.
All night we will talk &
drink wine, while outside
twilight will silently deny
colour to the flowers of your garden.
Inside, we’ll remain ignorant
of all this save
for some ineffable sense of
absence,
as we talk & laugh.
drink wine & then,
perhaps,
we’ll fuck.
It’ll be fun
but through it all,
a loneliness will prevail:
The distance between us
is too vast to measure, & we
know that it won’t last forever.
Why do we do this to each other?
Words for Ghosts 