In my understanding
of this hemisphere,
I sense a certain
discontentment.
Teardrops wanting
to fall but there is
no truth to them.
Indeed, they will be lies;
a disguise
meant only to deceive.
In this graveyard
it is silent and hollow.
Wounds wanting to heal
but the blood will not stop.
Yes, the innocence of youth
is dripping onto the floor.
The inner slum
of industrial filth
is seeping into my heart.
Trashing it; digesting its
virtue and
leaving a shell behind.
I become a zombie
and feel no
desire
for improvement.
Yes, it is colder now
and I will sleep.
When next I awake.
I'll be different,
having emptied my
soul of all its charms.
In my acceptance of
myself,
I sense a certain surrender.
And so I'm sitting on a chair
wrapped in my house-coat.
Smoking a joint
and
escalating the impossible.
Mind flutters from
thought to thought
and I think
I'm going to grow
some perfect
expectations.
The dog is sleeping.
The cat is outside.
The kids are at school
and the fish
are complaining
about their
environment.
I leave my chair.
Stand on the floor!
Isn't that amazing!
Peek through the blinds
on the shimmering
window.
Outside looking in
is some sort
of alteration.
Reminds me that
everything changes
and then goes
right back
to where it
was in the
beginning.
Why do we always
keep running into
the same people?
Why do we
always float
back and forth
between
the same opinions?
And so I
sit back on my
chair and
light
a cigarette.
I don't have
to conform
if I
don't want to.
Chris G. Vaillancourt
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-certain-surrender/
