Chain

You have disturbed my deep slumber.

 

I have not delved in the science

So deep as to read your face

And cut through your cunning

Web of continents …

Your fine net of polite words

Chains my endeavour

To divert my interest.

I could hate you, or do I not?

It’s just the other face of love.

I have been in hysterics over

An ideal falsified and long

To live in illusions.

Too many illustrations

Of similar lives

Have filled my heart with fear;

At every step I take in hope

There are hot flames, hot tears.

 

‘I forgive you’, I say through

Circumcised lips.

Whispered inanities on the phone

Never do convey my agony.

 

Hot tears frighten me –

They well up from such depths,

I fear blood will spill.

Desire is unpleasure

And I haven’t it suppressed.

Songs borrowed from Magnasound

Do not speak your mind,

Nor do Swiss Chocolate Hearts, which

Can be bought without tears.

 

And at nights?

Lies a gaping flower;

Some borrowed images from the screen

Arouse a passive desire –

 

Then the knife cuts

Through a heaving bosom,

An old tear rolls across,

Scared to death to sniff

And blow my nose, I speak

All that I mean for your ears –

Does it serve your vanity

To be deaf?

 

If you were home near me

I could speak aloud.

I just lose myself in a crowd:

Chat, laugh and sing.

My embittered courage finds praise

In foul-throated givers-up;

You are not the only one.

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