Sunday 4 August 2019

Literary Somethings


I throw my fingers far into the jagged chasm that my mind has become,
Claw and scrape the slithery walls and wait for the torrent.
The torrent of words, that familiar overwhelming gush of literary somethings,
And nothing but emptiness gapes at me.

I hear echoes, echoes of ages gone by,
My words, my old words, my dear friends, whisper
“You left us. You left us for everything the world taught you”
We showed you mountain streams and dewdrop strung glades,
We helped you with the beast that clawed your heart,
The fury that boiled in your veins,
And yet you left. You left for your spreadsheets and IDEs
Your internships, your jobs, your bills.
You swore you’d always keep us at your side,
But we’re not side chicks meant as a back up,
To fill holes left by your main whore,
When we left you, we left you ablaze, we left scars,
Blazing red burns all over your brown skin and
Your sensitive, tender heart,
Gashes down your neck, your hands,
From when you couldn’t handle our might.
Your tear ducts are now empty and raw,
They reek of our absence, of the way they
Wouldn’t stop when you’d write from your heart.
Your tears don’t fall in great waves like we did once,
No, they don’t fall, they simply stall in your eyes,
Confused at the lack of spirit, of emotion,
Dazed at the lack of ambition, drive, direction,
Where is it, your tears ask, where are our friends,
We can’t gush without them.



Being dramatic at 2 AM,
my_signatue