Tuesday, 14 January 2014

Waste Paper Basket

     in the business of truth telling
i've hidden myself
in smoke and mirrors
    helped sink friendships, sever family ties
sanity's claim in the living
is that we're all gonna die one day
    well here's the truth
    words are simply words,
no matter how you hear them
twisted vines of growth
coming from undefined depths
never meant for you,
a wretched hand reaching for the
scissors

stop

stay still, keep in mind your demons

lift your head out of the bitumen
stop filling your head with stones
sew back together filthy fragments
brick together the house destroyed
by your ire
fingers licked in flame
by a blue fire
back to the drawing board,
cover that reminder with ink
breathe

forget what everyone else thinks
forget         everyone else

think

of you for once
pick up yourself by the shackles of pained breathing
let the rust sink into blood as the newest memory
none of the too good to be true things were
true
                  trimmings on a casket
                  discarded poetry fills my
                  waste paper basket
                  rendered useless in eighteen ways

now, martyr,
    say sorry to your bones
they've been grinding themselves in your sleep
they cannot keep up
    not built for speed
    but to carry heavy things

at last,
    the final element of distance
    sweet, putrid silence

broken skin heals
    when no one is looking
body in hideaway,
    smoke signals sent over seas
the ship has been gutted
    emptied
    memos thrown out
    manuals torn 'part
glass sinking
sudden isolation

thinking of open water
    i stir my tea,
consider letting the tide take me
to sink into sleep as a blessing

rock in my belly
grows larger by the minute,
Earth grounding me,
'Sister we're not finished with you yet'

storm inside but the weather's clearing

               faintly

a wind tickles the trees, whispers
you've forgotten the first rule of
Being

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