The sand is beneath me,
on which a thousand generations
have left their filth.
The air carries the smell of frying oil,
fish and salt.
I hear the raucous laughter of children,
framed against the hazy shifting shadows
of the light house.
The lovers’ buzz in the half dark,
is pierced by the shrill hawker’s cry.
Four legged scavengers prowl –
feasting on yesterday’s contentment.
I am surrounded by people
that they say I love.
I smile politely with their inane laughter,
pretending to care about
a thousand absurdities,
as my mind tosses amongst the waves
rising upwards with the question –
Falling as the blood moon mocks,
“What more do you want?”


One thought on “Angst

  1. Yeah I like the revised version better. This one’s a bit harsh, especially with “inane,” “pretending,” and “absurdities.”

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