Usually write small poems that serve to fend my mind away from a lot of the nonsense that is going on in my life, a sort of therapy. This is one of them, I have others like it. I don't quite like it, but I think sharing it can help other people.
Saturn
II (edit)
You're gonna carry that weight.
There's no one, nobody's gotta ask why,
because you're not made for happiness.
All the skies' beds'll drop your dream
since you're not made for happiness, Saturn.
Where off to, sunless, you've that jungle rain soul,
ain't no one who'll house a kink-in-a'-ring.
And you'll make be and move out forever.
You'll slingshoot the dark film, you'll be alone again.
Again and again.
And each second you'll be alone reminding yourself,
it'll be a cold forty-maybe years. Then?
There is no then.
You've got that load none's gonna ask you what for,
let the act yap tills it dries, do again do again.
And you're gonna carry that weight,
until there's no he or she left in the world to love.
Then you'll still carry on, loneliness ain't no less a vengeance.
And you'll die in sixteen languages,
but what does it matter, you'll sing till you're song,
even when you've no one to break the new day with in the morning,
even when you've no one to gaze at clouds with in the evening.
even when you've no one to warm the bed with in the night.
I'd rather be dead than do many things alone.
And you're gonna carry that weight alone,
until the black that bleeds through your white kills you slower.
That's because you aren't made for happiness,
otherwise I wouldn't send you so far away from here.
Day'll rain, does it. Day'll I come and drown it. Wrestle the canopy close and end it.
The sky'll press the dome in, malachite mad, and remedy this fault with open faucet.
With the calm dying, with the clothesline left drying, with snow and brazen thunder-glad
and the welterchildren whose syllables are now incomprehensibly sad, day'll thud on until
water and water can't fill me trying. Then, in ascending elan, drop the clouds name by name.
Adieu, butterflies. And adieu caterpillars, small in the consequence you are, I will not forget,
not the song of mice and bird, no little thing quits.
Is dark.
Is low.
The worst of it is it is.
I don't so much know what the feeling of her is.
And so much of her, so much good, that she deserves better than me.
I am content long as I make her happy.
World's between wonder, you say, and wander.
World between wonder and wander, I am alone.
Whirl on, though I'm alone to the World surround.
Wild, sophisticated, troubled, loud.
I can't hear out of the noise my self's music,
for, with every step, I lose it passo a passo, piu
piano. Only then do I remember, [X]!
I am all alone.
[X], I am alone.
You're gonna go, gonna carry that weight.
Time better hurry, best time not be late.
Time must not betray me.
And it'll be the end of you, Saturn.
No coffin can bear the weight of your ring.
