The Wretched
Sleeping giant,
a crowning disappointment,
all Ill ever be:
unrealized potential.
Unheard musician --
his friends see his hopelessness,
and right they are to leave,
they are right to let him fall,
I dont want to drown them too.
Past times and praise I dont deserve
rush past in dizzy spirit-dance,
all their love lash me like chance
and damn me to the autumn.
Past selves and friends I dont recall
run through my mind like dirty streams --
I drank them just to quench my dreams,
to satisfy my thirst,
and I retched out my talent.
Wretched nightmare,
awoken in the daytime
with the taste of bile,
the sour kiss of what would be.
Cursed daydream,
imagining devotion or
a lover who loves me,
but these are only dreams.
Copyright 2000 Krister Kittelson.