There is no hope for me, I rather sit and think of nothing much
than go outside to watch a full moon hang over a cobalt sea,
than go to places where to find a mate and romance of the flesh,
than find a cause more noble or more fun. I need no fun, I sit.
The music can’t lure me away from my feeling of contentment.
The cool of silent evenings gives me more than my need of applause.
There is no hope that I shall live the fullest life, for I am me.
The empty spaces in my thoughts are there to fill the thoughtless gaps.
Though much resentment comes from others as I sit, I have to sit.
This is it. To sit and think of nothing much. Just of life perhaps.