144. In anticipation

Each time
with the same foolish
fervour:
each
time
greeted with the same
indifference.

Cold stares,
absences,
empty
promises:
turned away from
leaden doors, cold.

In vain have I pleaded,
begging for a single
word, a
single glance,
a fleeting
touch;

Life has no heroes
they say:
I thought would be
above
shadows

yet I am becoming one:
day by day,
colon by semicolon;
I am resigning myself,
resigning my life to
complacency,
acknowledging my ill
fortune:
we must be masochists,
the survivors; and
the survived,
the helpless
sadists.