An addiction

The heart rests before 
It breaks—

Light stings (on the right side of the wall
The light makes the wall imperfect, 
And so the shadows complained) the eyes, lids
Archaic, like old photocopy 
Machines—with a dose of indifference, 
The city compilation smelt 
Like faded copies: a replica of the 
Personal relationship birdcage. 
(I dare you to move on.) 
(Such verbiage, such nonsense.)
It keeps me awake.

I am
The intruder of the world: four forty-one, 
The greenish hands conduct, the time 
Is awkward, and it is mine.

My fault alone
(My eccentric blasphemy), 
Meek and blue, 
The midnight bliss sleeps 
Tranquillised (the mocking blue 
In the centre of my palm), and I 
Once again walk the old path.

Dale Chou
2002-09-13