deepundergroundpoetry.com
on caskets & exits
i understand why it happens
speaking from
a guilty as charged perspective;
i can't recall
the last time my mind
didn't picture
my body as a casket
polished
with fancy handles;
how it'd
be the only peaceful moment
in my life,
i couldn't say
how many thoughts such as these
go through
my mind everyday
they bust in,
sit down on my furniture,
put their feet up,
ask me
if i'm putting the kettle on
& tell me
they won't take
long
they lie—
one time
they took too long
i became desperate
that meant
failing to swing
from a tree
using worn
rope
in broad
daylight,
another time
they took too long
i found myself
past yellow lines
at north
greenwich station
counting minutes
waiting for a tube
to arrive
only to be
pulled back
as rails came
screaming,
another time
they took too long
daylight turned
pitch black
i ate my
prescription
like a tube of
smarties
nobody
likes fighting
a grey henry
hoover stuck
inside their
gob,
i understand why it happens
speaking from
a guilty as charged perspective;
i get why people
write it out
bleeding on
a fresh sheet
i'll raise my hand
every damn time
if i have to
because
it was never
about being
right or wrong
it's just
better than
quitting on
yourself,
i just consider
myself one of the lucky ones
who learnt
like everything else
this is all
temporary
even if
i find myself
writing it
out.
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