Melodrama

A Post-Fairy Tale

Blood and sugar

Spiked the hunger,

And hunger blossomed

Into a fever.

The slow treacly burn

Of basic desire.

 

And soon it was dark.

And then it was darkest.

And then it was darker.

 

Black and purple and green and blue

Deep red welts and a faded bruise.

 

Darling,

Give me your fists will you

So I could stay its pummeling –

If just for this moment

 

But you say –

Sugar

Give me your lips will ya

So I could kiss you back

Back

Into breathing.

 

Never quite got the hang of writing poetry. Despite my love for the genre, I’m a prose person all the way through. (I think because poetry requires not only a sense of musicality, but also a passion for truth, which I don’t have)

But sometimes I do make occasional, brave forays into the land of verse. And ah, there’s nothing like bad poetry to lift the spirits on an autumn morning, eh?

 

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Being

Sometimes when I look as if I’m very far away, I am in fact trying really hard to be present.

Being present has never been harder than it is right now. Sometimes when I open my eyes, I feel like the apocalypse is upon me. But then all that’s before me, in reality, is merely a plastic bag and some kids running around in a park.

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