mad world

the old year unfolds for me

like a shit-stained rose

and on the elevated d train

i look into blue homes

at the debris of humankind

at the playpens of screaming children

and television sets

the empty couches and soiled beds

the families huddled over dinner

over gadgets that offer them better than flesh

their only true hope to rise tomorrow

and once again say hello to the cancerous sun

i watch this

and i think of myself as a mad youth

in college student unions of my dirty memory

writing mad words

meant to take over this mad world

and failing

having it arrive too late

to truly save the gray man looking back at me

in the subway window

who once challenged himself

to be immortal

but will now have to settle

for being just like

everyone

else.

 

--John Grochalski