(This poem is based on Jean François Lyotard's idea of the "Differend," which is a difference that cannot be expressed because the discourse necessary to express it does not exist. It is a difference that is unspeakable, and therefore impossible to resolve. )

The Differend

The more they spend words in my praise The more my soul will suffer They'll count my gifts and glory days while I had nothing to offer

As you count out my acts of care, my count will cling to zero They couldn't be acts of love to you so I can't be their hero

The more I'll burn in shame the more on our loveship they dwell The more you send your prayers my way the more I'll burn in hell

The more you love my memory, the more we will have cause to differ. You'll say I gave you the world, and I that I had nothing to offer.