Pain. Unbearable pain.

As I stare at my distorted reflection in the tiles

I see a tint of green has discoloured the grout between them.

If only I had known

what a few days without that colour

would turn me into;

a man without fibre – having to fight this pain.

Photos in magazines, they all look the same

as I turn and turn them.

The gray mould flowers on the ceiling

in a mocking garden to remind me

of my current inability to fertilize a real one.

Unable to get rid of what must go away,

All I’m left with is this deep, deep pain.

And the strength needed is that of a Titan,

not to carry the world, just to let some of it go.

But force has been useless, relaxing pointless,

trying to forget this impossible.

Shall I sit here until eternity, perhaps die like the King?

Or should I gather some courage and resort to glycerin?

Not without one last try.

With my eyes closed, neck muscles strained,

I gather all my last resources.

Slowly, pain gives way to pleasure;

it finally reaches the water.

Sore, but relieved,

I watch my enormous past

wave its last goodbye

as it turns and turns and disappears.

All is done, all is gone.


Perhaps not.

Instead of descending, the water rises and overflows,

reaching the soles of my bare feet.

The adamant colossus refuses to yield.

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