WHAT'S LEFT?

From the back I face the concrete wall, With every possibility and will: While inside I'm a trembling orphan, a vulnerable wound! The hysterical Word of hysteria was thus preached by meddlesome, macabre buckaroos: their unquestioning bickering was manifested in a thousand sputtering forms! - Where have I come from to the unknown and uncertain depths of abysses? 

Here is the supreme question, Why? Was it because I, a buffoon who fails all, Whispered romance in hesitant, childish lines To ears waiting for love, And to the broken voices of my soul With a few kiss-bombs arose a flower-blade, a lily-eyed blossom! 

I have learned to appreciate that the pearl shower of bullets may be pure in its fragility, innocent in its nobility! - That made me such a nobody, such a molasses, such a man, such a man of will, such a man of action, such a man of no notice, such a man of no importance, like a fat snail that carries his home-slumber on his back as a shelter. 

Invisible as a speck of dust: And so small and unknown! Many a foolish young lady's precious treasure of my heart was replaced by a balance of worldly interests: a car of honourable value, with a fixed monthly income, and he who truly sacrifices his soul with naive Sisyphusian romance, and if need be with lion's paw, has built palaces and shelters for women's hearts! - I live. 

I have trusted my life to penetrating telepathic eyes, For once I feared no consequences: now the laws of responsibility govern me!