To Himself

Where’s your tambourine, O bear that just stands there?

So I have come to you without knowing
Listless and reduced of mind
Beyond the street corners of reality
Against the tallest hours of sleep

I live then without personality
Dragging the broken necks
Of my fantasies out of which
The same tongue labors:

I ended up here for no reason
For no reason at all
And now must find a lap
in which to weep.