Always As Ludicrous As This

Were you always as ludicrous as this?
Did you examine stab wounds and just laugh?
Is all your conversation one big gaffe,
A roll call of ideas that you miss
While other people see them? Is a kiss
What you were craving, not an epitaph
Explaining why your life was torn in half,
An epigram on stone from the abyss?

Or maybe I'm projecting my own state,
My own dark soul, my own refractive heart,
Inflecting this man's scope and that man's art
With emptiness and undigested hate,
With screaming loneliness and startling fate?
No. You're ridiculous, a clown apart.