Sunday 12 January 2014

This is my mind

I was on the bus.

Full of piss and vinegar but
Pride.
Matthew’s on the phone to the doctor sayin
Don’t take away my ____________________
It’s all I have when I’m down and out feelin
Down and out don’t cry about
Pride.

I heard the birds outside my window whispering your name they said you’d call me back they said you’d call my name you don’t come round here no more.

She took the seat behind me and leaned with her hair spilling over and said-

I’m not really here.

Bones and bone dust do you remember that dream I told you about it happens sometimes and

I’m four and it’s my birthday soon and I’m making a cake with my mum and I’m putting flour on the kitchen bench I’m standing on a stool and the flour is on my hands and I move them in a way that makes patterns and I lay my face down in it it’s cool and soft like feathers and when I straighten up there is an imprint and it’s my cheek and the flour in my hair feels rough now like sand and my mum says good girl and shows me how to make snow with the sieve and I like the pictures in the cookbook and I look at them

Winter. 

Your mouth is hungry and I am an empty house and you say self destruction is your religion well mine is making enemies you are a light I have to turn away from your eyes are door frames that make me feel homeless my mind is a trap I set up long ago for intruders and myself and I'm paying for it now I tell ya

We were in an ambulance

I could see the sky

And she said-

We’re not really here.


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