The Real Nowhere Man

by

Phil Pochurek

Look at the mad man under that tree
Arguing with himself endlessly.
With no one else around for help
Is that why he’s so angry?
Pacing and ranting helplessly
Waving his arms defenselessly
Yelling at someone only he can see.
Into the open air, doesn’t anyone care?
Days on end he may go without sleep
Eating his only luxury.
Alone in his world of delusions he weeps.
His solitude the only company he keeps.
Alone for everyone to see.
Where do you go when you can’t get away?
From your self for a moments peace.
What do you do when you close your eyes?
But the voices never cease.
Incessantly pecking away at your mind.
Eating your sanity like it was some kind
Of endless buffet until there’s nothing left behind,
But an empty shell of a man.
In a ravaged body who’s souls been torn out.
By an illness we no so little about.
Then made into a prisoner of his own mind.
What can he hope to find?
A better car that he can’t drive?
A bigger house to keep him alive?
Or just one more day to try and survive
The endless battles in his mind.
To win the war that’s in his head
To beat his enemies until they’re dead.
To win the peace of silence instead
Of arguing with himself.
To close his eyes and dream, not scream
Gods name in vain.
To sleep at last without any pain.
To dream all his memories in one last refrain
With tears of joy, and then die.
At last to suffer no more.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Dream Vacation
by: Suzanne Bauzys
from: Enfield, CT, US

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