Sunday, 19 July 2009

Debt to a Travelling Song

The chocolate wrapper is unnaturally loud,
I hear every tear and then every bite - through me.
Johnny Cash even fails to drown it.
Imagine his disappointment.
Of all the adventures in life, being unable to modify
One's own volume from beyond the grave
Must be the worst. Of course, I wouldn't know.

Unable to understand where my self is
(I do not know where my limbs are)
Enclosed in a coffin of my own making.
But it is warm like a body.
I feel no fear, tranquillity has earned its place.

The window moves further away,
A lack of focus causes the vehicle to fall apart.
Am I alive to see this, or is this because I am alive?

You tell me 'observational testimony',
But how am I to believe you?
How can they trust what they see?

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