|
At night, when we both lay
in bed, pressed against the
barricade between mind and
body, our little speech bubbles
wreathed in the day’s
discussion of people-
the Thai cafe down the street,
the Cypriot girl in class, our
shisha plan for Friday, your
eccentric Indophile professor.
you speak to me not through
words, but thoughts, these
thoughts of yours and mine,
met long time ago on the road
of self-discovery, when we
both battled different demons,
back in the days where we spent
less than a quarter of the time
we spend now, in this small
space of comfort, which erupts
into conflict zones, now and then.
the pendulum of our anxieties,
vigorously swing back and
forth, smashing the little cottage
of understanding which we built
through years of knowing,
doing, being the best we could be
and yet, we end up, being victims
of our own shortcomings,
pitted against each other by
clashing forces, two opposing
armies of existence, neither
good nor evil, but mismatched,
doomed and primeval. |
