Be my Guest

I had my lamp shade mended. Finally. I now sit comfortably on the couch in the drawing room. No more blinding tube light. No more of the lonely darkness either.

I then cry silently. Not the tears of agony. Not the shocking numbness either.

I search for angst and wrath inside, but I find none of it. I look for guilt and regret, I find traces of it but none significant. I look for agony and anguish, they have vanished as well.

Two of my friends then visited home. I described my 'state of mind' to them. One said it is a vice. The other, virtue. But I’m only very gay to welcome home Indifference. Be my guest, I say.