Bad Influences

They toss me back and forth,

for even they don't know which way to go.

Ignorants shout, opine, subvert,

and to my ears it sounds like hell,

or the roar of the end of the world

we are living in…

Their shouts become relentless in my mind,

so pitiful, so contemptible,

I take them as my absolute truth,

though only for moments.

The noise softens. It never stops.

And then I can think.

But when I think,

I hate myself,

for I see my own foolishness

in accepting the intolerable as real.

There is no truth in my case.

Good is evil. Evil is good.

Both play from opposite sides.

Both fight for my soul.

I listen, irritated but serene,

to both sides…

without ever knowing who is who.

I unravel as syllables form words

that disorient me,

that name me.

My many selves.

My many minds.

Portrait of Isabel Rawsthorne Standing in a Street in Soho, 1967