– this should be our today’s fluorescent tattoo
written on our forehead
as we abscond from our egotistic pain
of existing
not for The Other
but in Spite of another.
Dangling with animosity,
there’s an empty embrace between zombie brothers
there’s a dirty space dripped in red hallow
there’s snow crying in the blazing light
there’s a front row for the wicked
there’s a back row for the weakest
there’s ecce animot in the middle
and yet
there’s always the same cutting in line,
there’s you or me, no (and).
Look at you,
walking in the hallway with further bloodletting in the mind
just like your love-thy-but-not-quite neighbor,
grazing his shoulder with
what undoubtedly should be a soul
but you depict as a tiktok caring.
Look at me,
waking up in no sound and slowly gazing into the abyss
as inert as a poker face doll on a shelf,
already worn down by
what carelessly is a passage of time
but I know it as a form of not-being.
Look at us,
hanging inexplicably from the same crude and rotting ceiling
akin to a puzzle of pieces of meat put together,
nobody to fit us in
what timelessly could be a world
but we draw it as what needs conquering.
Dangling with soreness indeed,
no more family to lean on, it’s shattered
no more faith to believe in, it’s frozen
no more bliss to dwell on, it’s dark outside
no more trust to count on, it’s war inside
no more frailty to ambulance, just pity
no more Other
thus
just road rage, driving fast
towards you or me, no (us).
And when it hits
the rest is silence?
You don’t say!
Oh, wait…
……………..