Words: Jade French
I’m having a crisis of an existential nature
Don’t be alarmed…………………………………..
But I can’t feel my toes and every thought
I have turns into badly formed prose and
Even though I’ve turned in for the night my
Body has started to tilt like Sartre’s lazy eye
And suddenly I can’t stop wearing black
Polo necks and rolling cigarettes with one hand…
I flicked on Godard’s primary colors of yesterday and
Karina began to smudge. My heartbeat quickened
Because this must mean something, something about
Choice and free will and I must remember to pick up
Some milk that isn’t moldy, ours has gone off in the fridge.
There is an unbearable lightness to my being
And you keep asking me about my opinions
Always when we’re in bed, when we lie on top
Of each other, disconnected and separate.
It’s absurd that after 40 days of watching
Waiting, beating fists against the partition of
Being and nothingness and drinking Guinness in the sun
We still don’t speak. But you’re so existential right now
That’s you’re choice, I guess.