Tuesday, 14 January 2014

letter to Self

spread your mess around
    tangle fingerwebs and brain-waves
remember to pass on your mouldy roses
    to those who'd stop the world 's motion
    for a moment

for goodness' sake
    shake the wind out of your hair
    go back to crazy when you spoke to self on streets
    batshit on the inside
    screaming deep into lung
    and locked chest
    whistling to restless prisoners
harmonise your agony
    drag another crutch to carry you
    leave clothes for the outside
          face your innards in here

put on the blinkers
    wind shield wipers clean robotic emotions
swallow once, twice
    look up
    force leaking eyes to dry
    vomit violent silences
breath driving
against a racking rib
    smile politely
    make quiet conversation
    forget the cracking thunder
in temple,
desecrated presence
shattered light of a lone candle
starts a fire
    turn my back on the flames
    walk away

what was there
     nothing remains,
dusty footprint, rotten flower,
marked sneer stains a memory
    don't make a big deal out of this
   
        its not a big deal
            its not a big    d   e   a   l  .  .  .

miss me
when I'm gone
retracing childish steps
to coulda beens that led to
shoulda dones
harden heart and let the weeds grow among
headstones
there's a  scratch marking each affect
    it cannot break, that's an emotional cliche
    its not a big deal
        its not anything

do your lungs not still breathe
do your capillaries still read
between the lines of your heartbeat
suckling on bled nutrients
a bruised knuckle from night time stroll
is more real than
what you think
    nothing is as it seems
    its not a big deal
feel your organs function, thoughtlessly
no ego in mind.

do not be fooled
    for neither are you
    a big deal
there will always be better folk,
staking claims, help you punch above your weight
    you will be defeated
as they turn away
    you, learn your rightful place in this
reality contract
    you're nice enough, sure
but unexciting,
    you're plain as they come
someone to forget
someone to be forgotten

    it's not a big deal






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