It starts with the small cracks
pushes through the crevices, tiny ugly blobs, remnants
of unconscious sighs.
Tar-black and reeking
of discarded hope, it whimpers
snuggling into the wounds
like all the puppies you’ve lost as a child.
In moments of loneliness it whispers
Coaxes you to feed, to nourish yourself
From its dark, dreary milk and
You gnaw, half-hearted
Like you do at cold food
A day too old to eat, but too much of a waste to throw out.
It starts from within
Swirls of disappointment, internal chaos and black, black death
And before you know it, you are all topsy-turvy
Too mangled and ugly for anybody to save
Like a mouse hanging from cat jaws
Like a forlorn napkin, held by a single peg
Against a raging storm.
I don’t want to count the stars,
And wonder at those glistening points
Nor wander through the untouched thicket, Pffft!
Who has time for all this!
I don’t ask for much. Never have.
Simply not enough time, nor patience
For self is the centre of it all.
Minutes fall around me, hours roll
Away, like pebbles
From the hands of a child
But do I dare whimper? Or shed a tear?
Thick skin as they say, like cow hide
Beaten down, so many times
I hardly feel the pain.
Those you love the most are the ones who enjoy watching you bleed. And
sometimes you need to ask yourself
Have all that love been in vain?
Hours roll, unfeeling, just as years have rolled before them
With the heaviness of machines, well oiled
Tired eyes, tired heart, spent and alone watch on
Where did it begin?
Where to end? Should it end? Questions
Those painful hooks, tear into the flesh
I don’t wear white, for it shows off the red
Of a wounded bleeding skin.
Haven’t you heard?
Simplicity is the hardest thing.
Less is more, more is less
Who makes these rules, where do they bend?
Can they bend?
Questions. They know
No answers. Life
Is such, as we constantly tell ourselves.
But is it really so? Who makes these rules?
Where do they bend? Can they bend?
No one knows, does
The city clothed itself in sombre robes
The trees stood silent, leaves no longer
Dilly-dallying in the wind
Respectful reverence, or was it
I saw your face through the haze, petrol fumes
Clouded my judgement. You
Touched my hand and smiled
Into my eyes. Cue – this is where I melt, into your arms
Helplessly, aimlessly wander, let you engulf me, liquid
But something had frozen. I guess I do not melt anymore
It was strange yet comforting, I needed you no more.
Yet words splatter the walls at unforseen moments,
At the absence of a janitor, I am left
Mopping up the walls in silence.
Gnawing at thoughts these tiny little creatures,
Scuttling all over, pricks sometimes
Those pointy meddling feet, numerous
In composition. Hurt
Comes at unexpected times.
Somewhere drips bleeding, and I
Think to myself that
People are meddlesome insects and I
Find solace only in my thoughts, so
Loyal and so intimate.
Walls have been built and I
Wouldn’t know where to begin to
Dismantle them, nor
If I would ever want to, the
Naive and trusting thing that I am, the
Humble clay walls that I’ve built,
For Citadels of pride.
Find my thoughts to be my friends and they
Keep me occupied enough, conversing
In varied tones, I
Live inside my head.
Oh God! The residual love stings
Like glass splinters in the head, the pain
Lingers, the dolor
Of fading affection is
Bitter sweet, you cannot but weep
From exhaustion, tell yourself
It will all be over soon, but will it
Drown itself in the bog of indifference
That easily, while everything else
Crashes and burns, surrounds you
With throttling smoke?
Love fades, hang on
To its flimsy parting robes, leaving
Deep gashes on your wrists.
Heart juice flowing from the eyes, wringed
From the insides, writhing
And coiling like a beheaded serpent
To recuperate beheaded emotions.
Blood gasps for air
Asyphyxiating, masochistic perhaps
As one gleans relief from
These painful drops…..
Serpents coil round and round an anemic heart
While it spits blood, squirts
Water, for blood has been shed
Many, many times.
Having been ravaged by prying vultures
Having been pinched by thoughtless fingers, needles
Of indifference, cruel, stabbing words
Having been attacked with poisoned arrows, almost
Been sawed apart once, minced and mangled
Being choked now is a privilege,
A piece of chocolate fudge
Topped perhaps with a cherry, or
A juicy looking strawberry.
If it had a mouth the heart would have smiled
For light is just about to fade from its eyes,
And the pain is about to cease, about to stop
Serpent venom lulls the agony to numbness
While it penetrates, explores every aching curve
Every burning alcove
Of carefully kept love and guarded memories.
If it had a mouth it would have smiled
For the anemic heart shall no longer beat
Heart wrenching doleful tunes
It patters out its own funeral march
Never to beat again.