My memory is alive Beneath folds of disease I have exclusive access To its power of release But I cannot use it No matter how I try To break the surface Of everyday life I am looking down At a dirty street I have no place to sit and I have no place to eat Who is responsible for This particular loss? I don't need hands to know What this chain of events will cost I choose not to foam at the mouth I separated out The rough from the raw And found that there was nothing more So I drank Then I sat in a chair And tried to carve things in the air Where I fell for despair There are undergarments Showing through The glassy waters Of a deep black pool I will fish them out With a wooden stick I will hold them up to The light; they're sick Historical figures Shudder into view Anonymously They sway in unison They struggle, unaware To meet in ages Is that so bad? The dogs all stop to look I choose not to foam at the mouth I separated out The rough from the raw And found that there was nothing more So I drank Then I sat in a chair And tried to carve things in the air, just over there Where I fell for despair