71. Fruitless Gaze

Peering out the dusty window
Rain pattering on the sill…
My eyes long to be bloody free
Yet my glare remains completely still

For there is nothing other which is on my mind
Except the brilliance congested within
The parasites inside me wish to be gone
Crawl away ‘til their carcasses reach Berlin

For I so desperately desire
To be able to read your mind
Not a trace of emotions abandoned
Not a shred of thought left behind

If only I could read you like a novel
With words printed, crisp and clean
Scrawled all over your clothes and neck
Secrets unravelled and out to be seen

For your fruitless gaze withers my soul
Monotonous gestures damage my scabs
‘Till I feel uncertain if I am worth it at all
And my heart is chopped like veal, into slabs

Yes, if only your existence was written in words
That any warm blooded human could unseal
It would be joyous, but on the other hand
I am afraid as to what it would reveal

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