paper

20.08.2017

these grey walls
are ashen prison blocks
but the windows are open,
and it feels bearable.
simple, to let go
and not be conscious
ignoring the gnawing gut,
the empty voices, the
goodbye words.

it is easy to be
alone when you turn
the brain off,
don’t feel the cold
anymore, it’s just
another piece of
the nothing-void.
shuffles pass by
the bedroom door
there is -no entry-
why would there be?
no one is here.
sleep time comes
and it goes, like a
wave crushing down
the sand pebbles.
stronger just because.
the moon comes up
the sun goes down
the stars are bats
flying picking
bugs from the air.
music used to matter
in this space
and so did books
and projects
and smiles that split
lips. now there are
only tiny bones
on the bed, small
bruises and headaches.
skin a see-through blouse.

paper little girl
cutting up other
little paper things
and wishing them
into real life.
this isn’t playtime
and you will have
nothing at the end –
money holds no weight
in a wallet that
doesn’t exist.
i’m sorry –
it all sounded good
written down.

Advertisements

Your Thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: