Phoenix by Joe SEPHOZA

phoenix

so often thoughts wander
I'm not laughing
while thinking
- being haunted
behind me, spinning, turning
the wheel of fortune
and slowly
headlights
reflecting
in distorting mirrors
to blind my dream
of who I would be, if alive

they do have a limp, sumbling up the stairs towards the seat
where my life, partly, dies
the other half of misery
is reality's phoenix

empty grave
cold bones
I might laugh
once dead

sometimes - friendly - they ask me
'who's that stranger'
they don't know
and I
a stranger to myself

midnight in longing
I close a freudian pact
with my thoughts
and they return
tired of the world
in bed they're like the fantasy
of a one-night sleep
the sun turns me over
and falls asleep.


in :http://www.polumnia.net/writing/poetry.html