DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE Poem: weep, by Alexander Hayden

I daydrink with deities.
They tell me stories of the cyclic existence
we all experience
but are rarely aware of.

They say things like,
“Beings want happiness but are bereft of happiness;
they do not want suffering but are tortured by suffering.
You must develop great compassion and empathy from the very orb of your heart
for all sentient beings…”

Then they steal my name.
They try to wear my face.
My body rebels against their seizure of it.
But I wish it wouldn’t,
Because their words hurt my heart and flood my eyes.

One day I’ll really listen.
That bastard Siddhartha’s always right in the end.

I stopped counting how many times I found myself suffering
and then realizing the fucker predicted it and warned me.

I’ll weep a thousand years
for every minute more
I ignore
the cry-hearer’s advice.

He’ll soon multiply himself with my corpse
and we’ll both realize again
we were never separate in the first place.

Avalokiteshvara likes whiskey like I do
and when I’m done complaining about
the nonproblems that stain my mind he says:
“You must train in the compassion that is the inability to bear
the sight of suffering in others
without acting to relieve it.”

And the desire for the gorgeous woman I’m trying to seduce,
and the money I’m trying to make,
and the legacy I seek to leave
all fade away
and my eyes bleed golden tears of joy.

My body is not removed from the path of death
but my being is,
and my heart shatters into billions of pieces
so it can be placed
into the minds of others –
I hope to make you fucking weep