Sunday, November 29, 2015

A POEM BY GARY G PELOW, THE CORNER.tt

There is a house on the corner, there is somebody who lives there who is just not right, he is always alone, nervous, looking frightened all the time.  There seems on the surface of things that he is completely empty inside, devoid of any possibility for love, friendship, companionship.  The sky in his world is always dark and the air always cold.  His heart beats cold with anger and rage just barely under control, but it is seemingly under control none the less. There is psychotic boredom there if there is such a thing in his strange empty reality.  However, he is still physically alive, he has not given up, he will not give up, his sister gave up with a shot gun blast to her head.  The thought of deliberate self caused death or violence toward others is disgustingly immoral to him, these are not an option, surrender to hs imaginary enemies or despair will not happen, if for no other reason than that he hates to lose, so existence is victory enough.

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