Thursday, 5 June 2014

Hell is other people. James WF Roberts

Hell is other people.
James WF Roberts

Hell is other people.
Misery is love. 
Solitude is heaven.
Salvation—a night full of strangers,
no possibility of future interactions.
No possibility of ever acknowledging
each other passing each other on the street.
Hope is a prison—that only the foolish
condemn themselves to.
Does she really live on love street?
In her eyes—am I just another fresh piece of meat?

Hell is other people.
Misery is love.
Solitude is heaven.
Bourbon dulls the senses,
and cigarettes only remind me
of your kiss.

Raining all night again,
the night’s found an expression
of my frustration…
Hell is other people.
(from Many Truths of an Absurd Nature)

2 comments:

  1. Hi James, love a lot of the imagery in this poem and feel the sentiment, but don't often regard solitude as heaven, must confess. Cheers, Deb :)

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