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

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s