Angst

Angels will cry. And wine, weeping over mistakes I won’t regret, o’er unmistakes. Angels will disapprove of my wry… words. Whip it away from me and I’ll fade, following it, followed by you.

And yet angels will forgive me. No, they will not. It was a blunder… unforgivable. Nah, nah, it’s just in no shape or form that uncommitted stands any chance to be unforgiven.

Any way out? – madeira, please! One, two, three and four, my pacific stream of quietude is flowing  and don’t you call a dam! The nectar of the colour of a golden harp flowing down my dry… throat. Goat, she-goat, no angs and easy. Angst! Angst! – complicated! Like garter and stockings, involved? With a bunch of arum lilies involved! And that’s what it requires – that and to dare. Easy – when? In retrospective. Nah, in perspective! It burns and is burning, wish I had something else to light. And yet it will never get extinguished.

Out of time to grab all my belongings and leave for that complicated. Out of eternity to live for that complicated. Chasing a hand of the clock  for incomplete. And yet complete. Ah no, nay, never – to be completed.

March 26, 2012