I Pity You
I pity
and envy
you
your dumb
safe lives
and dreams.
Your
predictable
nothingness
and lack
of originality
and willingness
to let go of
what has already
been done
to death
before.
The key
I hold
unlocked
but perfidious
secrets,
and in a room
infected by
roaches,
haunted by
the dead
back
to visit
and rob me of
my sleep,
I realise
the lies
we live
are not
one
nor will
they ever
be
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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