leaden soul

I drag my heavy feet
and my leaden soul
out to the edge
of the cliff,
back where I was
told
I had started from.
The sky looks
the same,
the other cliffs
are lonely
and the waters
swirl in
the same,
menacing way.
I don’t remember
which one I was
that day
when we took our leap.

I drag my feet
and my leaden soul
here tonight
so that I can force
myself
to write –
that is how I defined
myself
and so I must –
our definitions stick
for a long time,
till someone
tells us
that we were wrong.

I drag my feet
and my leaden soul
here and I light
another cigarette –
they are no comfort
and make me cough
a little more
of the ebbing life
out of me,
that which made me jump
and try to swim
though I knew
eventually
I would
drown.

“He searches
for the girl
with mysterious eyes,
so he may dive in
and look
for himself.”

Words from long ago
come rushing back
with different meaning,
warped by the callousness
of unlearned hands,
hands that lack
knowledge.
Is the lack
of knowledge
innocence,
or is innocence
just another mask
that I found
in the smoky hallway?

Now I don’t know
anything.
But slowly
I am walking
back to long-forgotten
alleyways,
now desolate,
lonely,
waiting for footsteps
and I pray,
to who, I don’t know,
sometimes,
and wish
I had never
gone beyond,
and I know
that I lie to myself,
to life,
the universe,
and everything.