At night, when it seems
that I finally managed to
identify myself,
satisfied I would think:
how bad is my need for a commonly
encountered happiness,
which really is not so ordinary after all
because of my stubborn desire?
such a distortion of truth
really fits me perfectly
but each time
it’s shaking my nerves again.
in any case
it’s becoming annoying
as a habit of indisposed behaviour —
a habit of estimating
my own state of mind
as something inappropriate, amorphous.
change then becomes a staple
in psychology…
imagine the power of modification,
alternating appearance of two different people
in the same role, perhaps
of two different roles in the same
person?
for once, at least,
a simple hypothesis
becomes a reality.
©Tom Del Braco
tomislavpoetry 