Absurdity

The show must go on —
For whose amusement
For whose benefit

These grotesque forms
Rise from dust
Grunt, gesticulate, articulate —
And return to dust

Dancing their dances
Playing their parts —
Self-cast, typecast
Struggling and suffering

Fuck
I am done with it

I have danced my dance —
And for no one
No more
Shall I ever dance

But —
Where would I sit
Where would I wander

What’s there to be done
No rest to find
No path to tread
Nothing to claim

On the stage —
Who else is there but me
No rest in this act

Past the stage
No actor
No show
No audience

The show must then be
For my own amusement

But still —
What’s the gain in dancing
To myself as audience

Where’s the sting in stopping
With no audience to be stung

Pointless to be on the stage
No point being anywhere else