Everything A Person Needs To Say
Let us settle this once and for all.
Everything a person needs to say,
Right here,
Right now.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Well,
What’s a person need to say, really?
Life is this,
And life is that,
And then,
It's a wrap.
Somewhere along the line,
There might be love.
And loss
Is always
Guaranteed;
But the less that you love,
The less that you lose.
That’s not right,
Is it?
No, dear people, that can’t be it.
Love matters in life, I am sure of it.
I’d love to fall
Madly in love
With one of you,
And feel like
I couldn’t live
Without you;
But
I don’t
Feel that.
Not anymore.
Not right now.
So, if not love,
Then what?
Art?
Perhaps.
God?
Well,
Words can’t solve that riddle
Government?
Absolutely not.
Those crooks don’t deserve our time.
The rationale?
Calculate exactly what you need in a formula,
Then live life by that equation,
And come back to me
When you hunger again
For the parts of life
That rationale couldn’t give you.
How about the dull? And boring?
Ah, let’s not focus too much on that, dear people.
That is an infinite void—one not to stare at for too long, I fear.
Nature?
You mean
Us?
We?
Everything?
What is your nature?
And is it not
Us?
Sex?
I’ve had too much of it.
I am on empty these days.
Something has died inside of me.
That’s okay, really, dear people.
It isn’t everything.
Maybe one day,
One of you will awake the primal in me again.
And this time
I really do mean
ONE of you
Just one . . .
I don’t need
The world,
I just need
One loving girl.
I see your point . . .
This is my rational formula
For my life;
And surely,
If I had everything I ever wanted,
I’d fuck it up
Out of boredom,
Or out of
Arrogance;
And definitely out of
Ignorance.
Everything a person needs to say??
What an idiotic idea.
And whose was it, anyway??
My own . . .
What an ambitious idiot.
But isn’t being an ambitious idiot
The recipe
For success?
Good God, Sir, your chatter here is deafening.
Enough of you.
My apologies, my friends;
We’ll take a break here,
And come back to when we’ve solved the unsolvable.
Enough!
Alright . . . into the night we go,
Where we dream dreams of an answer. And—
—Why do you persist?
Don’t you get it, sir?
Get what?
. . . I have so much to say. . .
To condense it all into a poem or two,
That would not be possible.
But it’s all been said before?
Awe, yes, my friend, it has; but not by me.
And who are you? Why are you so special?
You don’t know?
No?
Well, my friend,
I am you.
-C.H.