Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Letter to Harper. 30 May, 1999

Downright scary solitude
This hour of the time is lewd
As you recognize your sheet
I'm telling you for once I'm beat

There is not a soul around
And I'nm so scared to make a sound
For every breath and every squeak
My tension sours into a peak.

This is me
I'm all alone
Ain't got no life
Ain't got no home.
Empty hostel in the night
Can you imagine my plight
With all the merry extra souls
All the ghosts and all the ghouls.

108 Little empty rooms,
Except for me in one of doom
I did not think I'd ever be
So scared in all eternity.

I beg thee please
Do hasten to grant release!
This is indeed a horrid time
To contemplate this beastly rhyme.

What will I do
if lizards creep
into my bed
when I'm asleep?
What will I do
if spider's tread
on my godforsaken head?
I have ten boxes in the corner
If they're alive then I'm a goner.

Guess what
I don't even have a clock
I'll have to flee
around the block
And give myself a mighty shock
In advance for there might be
Someone waiting for me
with bad make up.

Bye bye. This is the absolute end.

And so ends this letter to me from the National Institute of Design, girls hostel. (I think). Sent to me in Canada.

1 comment:

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