Poetry in motion

she sits alone
in a blank-walled enclosure
listening to the sounds
of running water as the
Gods enter her bloodstream

the tension she always
feels, searching out others -
their eyes not allowed to fall upon
her disgrace -
but now, safe;
locked away
white walls

   (the walls covered in painted-over
    graffiti; the toilet seat down,
    a stink of shit and piss still escaping;
    a needle hanging out of her arm)

it washes over her
like nothing you can
describe in mere words;
so good it hurts
it hurts good
and for a moment
    (just one moment)
she sees her life
in perfect relief,
distanced by euphoria

  (how did she get here?  nothing but a girl
   in the cubicle of a public toilet shooting
   shit into her veins and wondering about
   what she naively calls her life?)

but then it's gone
and she is just
another princess
dancing amidst her
multudinous treasures

no regrets can take this away
from her


(C) Copyright 2001
Tristan Jakob-Hoff
All Rights Reserved