Poem 128- Everyday - a poem of dichotomy of love in the wake of severance sliced together.

Everyday- a poem of dichotomy of love in the wake of severance sliced together.

I wonder what you are doing everyday

I wonder what you are doing everyday

Where are you going?

How can you be so cowardly as to accept all manner of defeats with a lazy, lacklustre feeling?

What coffee are you drinking?

How can your anger triumph over perseverance and ended destiny?

How beardly, posh theatre types respond to your particular brand of self.

How can you make me homeless- no love, no hand to hold?

How are you surviving at the epicentre of this moment. Are you as spliced as I am?

I am so broken , so angry by the last months.

Has your mind turned to sived soup? What are you feeling everyday. How do you breathe?

I am broken by your inability to be a man.

I drive now, did you know that or was that confidential?

and how you could not love me in that way.

Poem 127- No

No

Saying no to you is something I thought I would never need do and certainly never want to do but you have forced me.

Saying no to you is

Like

Letting someone stick a knitting needle deeply in to my stomach

Like

Dropping your phone down a drain when you were expecting the most important call of your life

Like

A frozen turkey falling off the counter and landing on your toe

Like

Being bitten by the dog you knew would bite you as you sprinted so hard you couldn’t breathe and felt it as it snuck up on you as you knew you would have to stop soon.

This physical pain despite explanation hurts more than that toothache or that time I face-planted as I walked back in to school on the phone.

Saying no to you is a torture I didn’t feel I would be able to withstand.

Its lucky what your asking for is a complete and unadulterated proof that this pain will inevitably stop hurting as I hold reality up to my imaginary life with you like a stained glass window. 

Poem 126- Thank you

Thank you

This afternoon we talked of all the reasons why my abnormality defines me.

We made progress, we understood each other better… then we didn’t

We reclined in to a comfortable place where I thought I could predict your words.

And those words were there mainly to tell you how to behave, how to deconstruct the us that has been perpetuated since 1994 and 1999.

A postdated tribute of comprehension and change, to the life we lead and the fallout and shrapnel of glass and nails it left in its wake.

The time past, stuck in that cramped, non air-conditioned conversation. Passing through all the great topics of religion, sex, death and your mother and her machatainister.

The label on the tin changed, the phone call re-directed by the operator.

I am not angry that we chatted about me, or that or opinions differ- we have been friends since I needed to thank you.

I am not upset at your ability to express yourself so clearly in and language not your own.

I am shocked at how quickly the point changed and how I had to carry the weight of the bitterness and insecurity you imparted- accidentally

As I try to believe in my choices you undermine them with your valid reasoning and mirror image feelings.

And I feel sad and sorry and ashamed by us and them and him and her and all of them related and unrelated to you and me.

I am sure even after this break from reality things will be fine but I will be confused for a little while… I hope you don’t mind. 

Poem 125- Secret Meetings

Secret Meetings

We met in secret, under the shade of darkness in a separate city that was dirty and dilapidated.

So she said as she

Walked in the

Streets

I have loved

Alone and

Together.

Don’t be involved

Don’t make things

Circular for no

Good reason

Invest less in

To the streets

That invest nothing

In to themselves

And commit

Nothing to the

Reparations of

Your heart.

Life is hard

She said

You’re no

Good at

Getting

Along with

People she

Said in the zula

Under a flashing

Light.

There are sky scrapers

There I said to them

As I ran EL hagan.

And waited to be

Told we couldn’t

Play. Morality is

Strange my friend

And love it not a picnic

Just find someone who

Will shlap there I said.

And bottles and leaves

Don’t magically appear.

I wish our meetings

Did not have to be secret

in the same way

I wish that the words

They said didn’t hurt

 And unconditional

Was only a word I didn’t know the meaning of to be disappointed by the lack of Its Promoters.

No I wont meet you she said, No it is your fault and No I wont bring it to you.