Narrator

A lonely wanderer renting the street

Who just retired from her sleep

Fermentation arising from bedsheets

Cultivating her shadow puffy and skim

Surnames and origins she can never retrieve

For the historical future collides and overshadows my own being

Let my past flood and my desires creep

In which wavelength do they flee

And which media do we perceive

In the face of standard myths

I deliberately sharpen the obtuse heat

Though we can’t shout our hearts out like the Beats

Promise me the dosage of tears will never exceed

Mountain ranges and secretive trees

Those far limits we could never foresee

Smacking me clean as the waves of the seas

Secrets and fears that I excrete

Exclaiming the exterior to be obsolete

Which letter should be burnt and whose address to reach

Shall I just pack up and brush my teeth

Before the alarms go on and call my inner police

Peel me out for I was born with skins

Those internal disbeliefs we consume as wheat

On dinner tables we embed our seeds and reheat

Bleak moons and skinny streets

Pages of books and cliches that we believe

Not so firmly though so we can still be released

Into the brave new world still waiting to be seen

It’s the light of Sun that I’m inhaling

To produce my own specifically-needed energy

2021.8