Cabin Fever

Eulogy of the Personal

7-12-04

When I outlive my usefulness, my witnessness,
settle me quietly
with lack of productivity and disregard longevity.
Lay me in a space that defies gravity,
one that knows me more than me
so I can learn eternally all that now escapes me.
I don't wanna die but if I did,
that's how I'd want it to be.
I'm not alone but I'm curious as to what it's like
to be unknown
or unseen or out of reach,
like pavement sun-bleached or a trust breached
and long forgotten
for all the rotten ways betrayal can make one feel-
on either side-
the divide that's left
inside a man
who cannot be all he hoped once to be
or now seems or is perceived
by everyone and anyone within his path
who understands that his sciences and maths
are light years beyond that of a common man.
Is it my eyes or am I really wise
to not understand the whys of my whys
or if no one sees the truth for its lies?
We all have a little something we sometimes disguise.
Do the dead know each other
and talk and mingle
and say "let's do lunch" or "are you single?"
or are they concealing death scars
and riding in the backs of cars
with windows tinted
so we won't know who they are?
They ride and hide and they don't mind;
people say death is all around all the time
and don't seem to mind.
And they only find it too late to unfind;
no stop, no pause, no rewind.
No return, no exit, no re-entry.
Just a turning of a century
in ages made up by destiny
and years divided by any life's intensity.
Are you still following me?
I may tease but I'm not skirting around any "philosophy".
My religion is of only what I believe.
If I'm not me then I'm scared of what you see,
and sometimes
I'm a li'l scared of everything.
When I extend my uselessness and lose my witnessness,
please have the sensibility to not include me
in anything of intelligence or moral substance.
Save me the embarrassment and show me my dignity,
as I've been all I could be
to those I've left behind me.
I won't be back to remind thee.
Sometimes,
it's ok to be a li'l scared of everything.