Meursault (A Poem) by Jsmalls

You infidel, why do you judge me?

With your lacquered tongue in molasses,

and your words you spat at me like a

swarm of tiny needles eager to bloody

my garb—what hounds your head? In

the promise of a sunlit day, you dis-

membered hope into a corpse who wore

a frown for eternity. I thank you—for real.

I heard the pin drop of disappointment inside

my shell, but the discomfort I tolerated, because

I ate already of the rotten fruit from the past.

Nothing new ever happened in the days

that marched behind one another into the

future of the current grisly past.  A roar

wanted to find an exit from my stubborn cage.

Instead, I found my compact, and I stared

at my small, fat portrait until my vision blurred

into reasonableness.

#poem #Camus #desolation #suffering #death


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