Red Comet Dust

You're constantly watching me.
Sometimes I like that-
Your eyes transgressing symptoms
Of my soul, like a doctor to a
Slow healing wound; very dangerous
And sensitive, and worth the look, perhaps.

So I will tell you about my day.
Today I woke too late and rushed to work,
Sleepy, starved, (in more ways than one)
And disengaged from life itself a little.
It began with the clouds, I think. Or,
Perhaps this new place I am going to call
A home, only it is empty and sad. I can't fill it
Enough to make it mine, but I stay here all the same.
When I peered up at the sky today,
The clouds, stuck upwards shutting out the light,
Gave me the faint impression of winter's slow fade.
I became sad and hungry for folds of life,
Life I had not yet known,
And to accelerate time to find them before me instantly.
Because of time, then, am I sad.
Time has stolen the past from my present-
Stops the future from my present-
Leaves me in this present
Where I look about searchingly.
What am I trying to find?

The day went on like that for some time.

I came back to my empty shell of a home,
Spent some more of time's useless currency
In distractions of the usual measure.
Music and glowing screens and
Something to fill my aching stomach.
The day was not all dismal, I promise.
Spoon River Anthology kept me company,
And I finished Sidharrtha this morning.
I was so happy that he and his friend
Were once again united
Before they too became the primal dust,
The solid earth, the leaves of grass.

But in this night, you know, I am always tempted
Towards those terrible thoughts that hurt me.
I jealously find everywhere togetherness,
And I, with nothingness. I have my heart,
Beating out of habit. I have my blood,
Barely warm enough to remind me I'm cold.
I have my eyes, brazen yet mockingly
They reflect my cold face.
Tonight they wept a little.
It was at the expense of fiction, rest assured.
And as the tears dried from my face
They began to fall from the sky,
Solidifying the anguish in my heart.

Why do you watch me so?
Why, why do you care what becomes of me?
I no longer plead, I no longer despair-
I am complacent with this existence for now.
Though it seems I am not so well
It is only sometimes I feel this way.
When I want capricious loyalties
To bar, and friends, and youth, and night,
I only find the night.
In that absence my mind finds a blank screen,
Filled full and fuller still than it can hold of me,
But never a word uttered to anyone but myself.
I am a bit selfish.
I am hiding,
In waiting,
Yearning and needing,
Wishing to breathe
And be happy.

This is just another glint of red comet dust
In an otherwise black and listless night.