Unbearable Seconds of Sunday

 

My darkest twin

Writhing within

Uncomfortable and fat

Feeding gloriously

Off the sweetest despair

Induced

By frustration

Being stuck here

Unable to make the slightest decision to change

Or

Even scream

For help

In tones audible

To someone

Who may be listening

Or not

 

***********

 

Twisted

And gnarled

Gnomic

Changing blood

Red to black

Black enough to drown

Even the smallest spark

Of intent

That’s not what I meant

To write

 

************

 

The lion roars

My blanket of memories

Stretches back

To Rastafarian times

Dreadlocks

Governed by

Red green gold

And a surety of knowledge

Soon smashed

This blanket drags me back

 

************

 

Cold seeps in

Encompasses my soul

In icy grim

Frozen in space

Time stills

I crave the comforting heat

Which will not come

 

************

 

One last poem

Before I prematurely chop this day to bits

Each verse carefully severed

From the others

Shoved in plastic

Tied with string

Dumped out on the kerb

For all the world to read

If they could only peer

Bother to see

The rubbish

Swallowing me

 

*************

 

 

Copyright June 2013