I listen
Daily to the cries of others pain
And
I wonder
Why?
Why should I bother?
Why do I listen?
Do I have to?

Here I am, as it were
Me, myself and I.
A fictitious view of who I am.
Attraction through misrepresentation.
I am not who, they think I maybe.

A textual misinterpretation.
All there, but along another path
It twists and turns
It grows and grows thorns
In pain
It is not me.

I am not the lyrical
I am not the poetical.

I am the thinker
I see your pain and use it's strength to make me strong.
I eat your sorrow and run into your mindscape
Ruling the valleys and lakes.
I am your saviour
I am your redemption, believe in me
I will give you more than any other

Life is endless
Life is pain
Life is the slow journey to death
And in it
I find that I am endless
I am forever and tomorrow.
I am the end
I am the void of nothingness
I find in me, the death of humanity.
I find the jilted generation
Scrambling for their fucking salvation

What is in me?
This demon, this intoxication.
Freedom to give me salvation
Rot me away and I guarantee my happiness
Throw me to the angel of death
Find me in realms of your own disbelief
I am the creator of doubt
Perhaps I am the anti-Christ himself.

I am much more
I am more than you thought
I breathe your uncertainty
I live your deception
Fear me
I am your death of life.

I take you to my next world
In me, you will find more question for your creator
But in the bottom of my bottle
You will find my death
And happy it may be
For I
In my intellectual stimulation of intoxication
Know the wrong doing of my self-persecution
Reject the caring of that profession.


29/8/97

David Rossiter White