Anamnesis

So many rooms in so many houses;
spaces within which the walls have waited,
        unseeing,
                uncaring,
as I played various roles
in minor dramas, some
of my own devising,
                some not,
        & most
being incomplete.

So many days wanting to stay away
from this mess, this reluctance;
                the daydream
of purposeful action
abandoning us with
                every movement
around the Sun.

The fragility of
                everything;
inevitable entropy
& we,
                the animals
that will not be themselves,
capable of knowing all this
wait
while words emerge to seek
a story worthy of acknowledging
                    that beneath
every surface
something waits
to be
            misunderstood.

Either serendipitous or fucked up:

The choice is yours.

The choice is mine,
           
            & I
                    can’t decide…

“Everything I love will die / in due time”*

Nothing left but the wet
decaying process
of repetition,
                not you
but something else;
unheimlich; the body
rigid
though not yet cold;

failing to feel the ground
beneath my feet
                trembling;
I leave the room
to try & force my fists & skull
                through a wall.

Sometimes I forget that you’re gone.

Sometimes I hate you for leaving,

but as you told me “c’est la vie:
la tristesse sera fini bientôt,

mais je suis désolé mon enfant.”

Sometimes I forget your face & panic.

Sometimes I take solace knowing
that now you’re nothing

& sometimes I can’t stand it.

My greatest regret will forever be
not being there to see
                your final breath.

                            &
what I whispered to you when
                all energy had left
will remain a secret
I will keep forever…

* Iron Chic – Know What I Mean, Jellybean

Past // Present // Future

Each anticipated day arrives &
elides into the past,
as we wait,
           again,
but for what?

How long will it take
for the pattern to change?

When will the cycle end?

With no past the future
becomes a desert &
                  the desert grows,
surrounding us
                  with the slow
creeping
of midnight mist…

with no future
the present becomes a test

you will fail unless
                    you refuse
to fight against
the meaninglessness
& dance instead

with the absurdity

Ocean Eyes

With your tongue in my mouth
you try to tease out
the secret of my silence,

but I keep it hidden
                    like
a garden
        full of dead
                    & dying
flowers.

With your tongue in your mouth
you make sounds
that unfold my rib cage, take
each strange organ
in your hands &
show me that
bones need not be broken
                        to be open.
 
                  Somehow,
in the blue reflection of your ocean
eyes, the poison in these organs
rise like vapour to the sky;

somehow,
        that ocean brings me back to life.

So let me in
            & see
if I will sink

            or swim.

Harmonic Shivers

For S

The heart is only an organ:
anthropomorphisation of the flesh
is just another lie
                   but
poetry doesn’t need truth:

My heart speaks to you
& my skin dreams of you.
Harmonic shivers* slither up my spine
whenever I think of all those times we
spent together.

My fingertips have memories
of what we did to each other;
my liver is in mourning, my
veins keep flowing
     as my spine
                is shivering.

* Shivers – Against Me!