Bad Faith

Do I sleep? Do I go down the hill?
I'm drowsy,
There is maybe one place left open.
I hold my heart
And feel the inconsolable sorrow
Of the world asleep.
Dragged by envy from the bed
To look upon the happy lot,
Weaving between the cars,
Knowing- when things go sour,
It'll all come out in the wash.

I go down amongst the men
Who groan on a youth up and died,
Fearing not the heavy death but the decay,
In the face of another spring
And losing friendships.
In world divined by comparison
Where happiness is the end of suffering
And truth is just reasoning
In the frame of a bigger lie.

I take my bad faith and wear it out;
In empty small cafes on weekday afternoons,
Talking loosely about war
A thousand miles from death.
In dark small bars on tree lined streets
Where the buses go down
Like bulls over the hill to darkness.