As you dance round the vacuum
Fill the space with your celebration
Has satisfaction found your heart?
If it eludes you, I admonish
Toss your glasses high
Fill them with your finest wines and raise them in the air
Raise your voices high in praise
raise them, that you may drown out the consciousness
Fill your ears with the loud songs
The beating of drums, the strumming of the guitar
Sway in gyration to its intensity
Sway till your cup is full
Sway till the intoxication fills you up
Sway till slumber takes your home
And so I sit here
With yesterday standing on my back
The weight of yesterday crushes my neck into an arc
My consciousness, it has captured
Nothing is bright, nothing is light
And this vacuum is compelling
Pulling my twisted limbs into its gaping hole
But your jubilation restrains me
Your dance rejects me
And so I sit, staring into the vacuum
sad. . .
Waiting. . .
Giving up . . .
Slave to the sounds of your [supposes] celebration