July 27, 2011

They don't care how it ends.

© Dave Rudin, 2008

i stumble naked
Over fallen branches and stones,
And they are all there,
The Narcissus,
Sitting in neat little rows,
Staring at themselves
Trapped in mirrors.
They are their own students,
Listening to only themselves.
i lean against rocks and debris
Screaming the false hope of a dying breed,
Like Echo,
Holding wasps in my palms
Ignoring their stings.

"i will hide myself away...
And live in fake places."

When the water rushes in,
It will strip the graffiti from the walls,
Leaving them bare and lifeless.
It will put out our fires,
One by one,
Until no one can breathe
From all the smoke.
But it will not cloud up your mirrors.

You are the ones,
The first.
And when you are sitting
behind barbed wire
And tall metal bars
You will only speak
What you always spoke
In an apathetic language.

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