God Nothing, Stands down for me.
Owing nothing, just the same,
I make a buried claim for nonsense
To be meaning for my mind,
Medicine for my soul.
In the end I cry out,
Why have you done this to me?
Put me here without a clue,
Trapped underneath the weight
Of my self-consciousness,
Losing every day,
More and more, my will to live,
My simple willingness to reach out,
My trust in my fellow human being,
My capacity to feel secure,
In anyone else’s presence,
In my own thoughts, a terror,
To be known, experienced,
In the company of innocents,
For I consider myself a crudely shaped,
Ugly imposter, whose only justice
Is to be tortured to death,
A truly shameful act,
For a shameless, detestable creature.