Nude in the empty hours, I wasted time &
Avoided immediate disparition through
These are the days between
Christmas and New Year’s Eve.
182 unread emails sit in my inbox
And they don’t seem to stop trickling in
Seeping from the outside world as if
There was a leak in the gigantic dam
Of trifles and corporate bagatelles.
Earlier on I sat besides my sister’s bed,
From where I called you when it was early,
And still not a thing ceased
This given waste which is like morning urine.
In the corridor, a brand new chaplain waited
With a heart of gold and some skills
At playing the saxophone – so he said.
I am not sure we’ll need you here,
But I am open to change, sir, even that one.
It was cruel to let us run
A shakespearian poll amongst the living
When all it was about, always was
To cast our ballot in the urn. But I get it, I understand,
Someone here must try and do both : open and change.