#55
Whirlpool
I seem to be caught in a vicious whirlpool.
As I walk forward with heavy steps,
the water tears at my feet and sweeps me back
to where the sunsets blur around the horizon,
and the sky is so big.
Every time I find myself dreaming of that place,
waves crash over me and thrust me into the cold cities;
the places where gray towers cry.
Every morning I find my eyes have peeled back,
exposing my naked thoughts to an old world
that's seen it all before.
It is thoroughly unimpressed.
I seem to be caught in a vicious cycle of lying to myself;
pretending I know the streets I find myself wandering,
smiling to passers-by who are faceless.
I close my eyes and let the anonymous whispers of other lives
pour through my barren skull -- hoping for something to fill it in.
And love mingles with disdain as my hopes clash against each other,
as I strive for isolation and adoration.
The ancient world is thoroughly unimpressed.