Christy said he'd felt like an old balloon with a mild case of deflation you know the progression of such things will have it a limp spent spectacle til a pair of lips blow some air back into it I told him he was lucky to have a pair of lips handy went home and watered the cactus on the off-chance it was sick for the want of it and I hadn't noticed
too close too close TOO CLOSE crash-smashed to smithereens like hammer to tinned beans no not tinned papered brave brave papered beans, but not beans NOT BEANS nor paper un-tinned blanket warm pillow soft feather light cool breeze on face soft un-twinned not warm breath hot wet hot WHITE HOT Elphantine
never laid eyes on her never held her hand or brushed her hair or sat on a sofa and hummed a melody to her while she fell asleep in my arms because I've never given her mother benefit of the doubt don't know I ever will I think of her at times times which belong in photograph fourteen so there's no immediate plans to throw her life into disarray [/i]
ˇ) and time ain't no Robin Hood wouldn't give it space on my wrist because it cares for nothing (ˇˇ) She offered me space and I refused then she forced it upon me so I filled it with anger and drowned her
(ˇˇˇ) look at it, fool do you think ol' Mr Higgs gives a fiddler's fuck where the little hand points
Forty one hours in accident and emergency. a trilogy of musings
Published 21st August 2015 5:07am
The guy who shuffles 'round corridors needs help to find a restroom then more to get back to his bed again for the umpteenth time could easily be perceived as scared lonely, shagged, or all three some look at him like he's seven shades of crazy ..but not me ii a young mother breaks: nuzzles her nose to the curve of her child's neck and takes to a quiet sob before she can...
She prays for me and I, for rain then, when it rains it rains immaculate and she is the snow pure soft, and driven and she is the wind that carries her kiss which brushes my lips so I can taste her on the tip of tongue and she is the flying fortress which carries the bomb and yes her hair is beautiful
and there is nothing set in stone like trauma chiseled on a face lacquered with blood and crushed bone and there is nothing set in stone like trespass of a special place and there is nothing set in stone like trauma chiseled on a face
She doesn't really like to talk not when everyone is circled around trying to put words onto her tongue but she likes to say "all gone" and she's a fair understanding of when to say it like when she comes to visit and turns off the tv, or my laptop or takes the last cookie she'll look right at me and say it with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes she can sound a sigh of resignation before sleep binds her eyes closed or when she needs to stop running 'cos the wind's blown her...