soliloquies and solipsism

by Arran James

Es ist alles lächerlich, wenn man an den Tod denkt
– Thomas Bernhard

i am a pneumatic rain
pelting against the fragmenting surface
of your blackened consciousness
(the audience grows
tired of the commentary)
and reptilian urges batter
against the formatting of these illustrations
these sometimes somethings

(rolling their eyes
they shuffle in their seats
striking up their own whispered conversations)
and i should have done it sooner
left you to your disappearance
to the aesthetic of your negation

and your striving
(a general din rises from the pits and galleries)
it’s useless to resist
and perhaps nothing is quite as surgical as
hope

or brutal as desire
and love is sometimes found in corpses
and acts of irreversible cruelty
(the noise diminishes as
the audience walk away
too disgusted with the performance
to even claim their entrance
and the speaker is left alone on the stage)
and i cradle every death into my chest
and feel the lightness
of every being on this noxious earth
so i

have to let you have your way
your silence and refusals
you are the centre of History
just as i am and just as the cats
and cockroaches

(someone remains sleeping in the back row
rousing sometimes with coughing)

i hope you make it to the other side
and find me there again
in the place where sovereignty collapses
and we fall happily asleep

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