Scarlet's Poetry Den "Litany of Scars - Notes to a Missing Lover"

Where the Hell are You? (Listen to the poem in RealAudio G2)

I talk to the wall sometimes. Often, it is the only thing around to talk to. Cheaper than a psychiatrist and about ten times more effective. Doesn't talk, judge or think you should be feeling something different. You don't have to worry if it understands, because you know it will anyway, even if it doesn't want to.

I have grown tired of solutions: they only complicate problems. Once, I knew everything - thought to save the world. It does not want to be saved.

Serpents and scorpions slither/crawl on the floor; butterflies graze the window. Caught in the middle, I wander naked and talk to the walls. There is some great secret just barely eluding me.

My unfound lover paces somewhere in a room just like this one waiting.

Angels and demons turn cartwheels in my brain and I am but a slave to their gymnastics.

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Last updated on September 6, 1999
© 1976-1999 Scarlet Delaney - All Rights Reserved
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