Sunday, 23 September 2012


Chisel maybe.
Anything cruel, hard.
Just here - if you could just break my face
Loosen off the ivory grip.
Can you slide your finger between incisors
And yank down the flesh?
Ugly and uglier to come.
Hideous words will dribble out and punctuate pathetic tears.
You can disregard the tongue and heart; they’re useless now and have been no friend to me.
So, trying not to make me gag
(even in bitterness I have my conventions) onwards and I feel upwards is the proper course
Here you’ll find the messy truth of the grey matter
And somewhere there amongst the floodlit brilliance and the shopping lists and amidst the lovers and the liars you’ll find your place,
Where you fit in to this ‘piece‘ ‘bit’ ‘bird’ ‘tart’
And of course you do.
Sorry to fuck up your clean shirt,
I can be ‘such a bitch’
Funny that!

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