I had to wait in line
And the whole world was chasing me.
Finding out about this and that,
Said this or that, everybody holding on to their demonstration
Of things corruptible, convertible.
They pester me, they do.
Why are you waiting across the street from me
You, with all of your own undone business, your cracked pots.
They all stick their skewer into me and drown me in boiling oil,
The delicacies of others are a tasty dish indeed,
And don’t we love decontextualisation, misinterpretation, demonisation?
Unless it’s ourselves, our very selves, on the pyre.
So now what, you’ve got me cornered and want this and that from me?
You have emptied yourself to such a degree you don’t even know what you
Really want from me. I have nothing to do with you, really.
As you take a good look at me.
I have no patience for judgements. Especially if they’re
Born in the crotch of misinformation, bad intentions and impulsivity.
Bore somebody else or make your life more stimulating.
If it’s not me today, it’s me tomorrow, everybody can anticipate your moves
Of despair. Have a look inside yourself.
For everybody’s sake and yours.
Realise that you’re the one unliving your life
With gossip that is made of dust,
With an outrage that condemns a humanity
That we all share to the very core.
Not one person has become truly fulfilled by
Sticking their noses and entire heads in other people’s pieces of biography.
“Head of an Arab Girl” by Miner Kilbourne Kellogg (1814-1889)