First, a musical epigraph: Well, I intended to embed a song, but LJ will have none of it, so I’m afraid you’ll have to listen to it here (note: the page is in Romanian, and so is the song).
Now the poem:
[via]
Cornered
by Kalyiel
What I thought I had left I kept finding again […] ~ W.S. Merwin, “Fox Sleep”
All the thoughts I bottled
And locked in a drawer
Keep breaking out, no matter
How many spells I cast on them,
How many streets I put between us.
They care for nothing, except
To corrupt my soul with their
Cassock Latin and Oblation wine.
I am tired. I am exhausted.
There is no killing them,
Though I sense that
Even dead, they would find me,
They would haunt me and
Make me their cigarette:
They’d puff on me until
I were finished. I am never free.
Will nobody help me?
Encyclopaedia Vanitatum 