I miss tripping over all those clothes piles
I miss untangled that mess of wires
I miss moving the plastic container boxes to get to my books
I miss holding my body against the door to keep it open
I miss climbing over a body to get to the shower
All that clutter, I miss it so.
What felt soft now feels numb
What felt hard now feels numb
What felt cold now feels numb
What felt warm now feels numb
What felt worthwhile now feels numb
These fingers of mine can only feel Cortopin, itches, and cuts.
It’s the new sensation, and I’m quick to the touch.
Over time, but not too much time, I found myself to be blocked. My head was full of wax, it started to coat the brain. My nose was stuffed with a full roll of tissue, you could pull it out like magic cloths. My mouth, packed with debris. I breathed and ate through a hole in my neck, but even then there was a blockage of syrup to contend with. It spurted out like blood in a zombie flick, and you could spread it on toast.
Then there was my stomach hanging in a web of bubblegum, and the intestines could barely contain all the gravel I swallowed on my travels. My heart pumped against a layer of Lego bricks. I was clogged up, blocked up, fucked up, funked up, gunked up. Continue reading
*click* *click* *click*
*swipe* *swipe* *swipe*
Not even any tears
*twirl* *twirl* *twirl*
That’s it! That’s that! It’s good to see you’re finally being a man.
*crunch* *crunch* *crunch*
It’s never a bother. a problem, a concern.
Even if it makes you squirm.
Even if it keeps you up all night.
Even if you lose your way
It’s certainly no bother, no problem, no concern?
There is a light in my life so bright I can no longer sleep through the darkest of days.
It never dims, and it never burns out.
It’s a light that pushes you towards it,
even through headaches
or through sleep deprived eyes
And so each day is brighter
Those LED light bulbs were a good idea, after all.
One pence, two pence, five pence, ten. These are the coins that you never pick up, they are best left for someone who really needs them, after-all. But twenty pence, pick that off the floor whilst no-one’s looking. Fifty pence, it doesn’t matter if anyone’s looking. And a pound… well, you scramble. That’s what I did when I saw the coin sparkling from the sun on the concrete ground, as if winking at me. I dropped to its level, and crawled up to it before anyone else could claim it. A homeless man watched me scoop it up, too slow. Continue reading