a drizzly grey of stiffening heat pins me to my present
I wake up waiting for my next sleep
thinking of trivialities like, “what to do”
dress, wash, eat, go
where is my memory dress, wash, eat, go
I feed my fear with guilt and my guilt with torment
thought myself tough! full of vitality!
putting on the veneer but not my clothes
how is it with the cleaning, did I clean
I don’t remember should I clean now?
It is time to go
I have dressed washed, thought about food and eaten agony
so many loves have gone and died now
but I don’t look back
not even when sitting on the doctors floor
consumed by exhaustive promises of who I am
dread in my eyes as I shake
the degrees of burn aching my chest
the two walls the corner my hole to hide
is it chemistry or psychology
a slower way to being dead
I am not me, but who I am
a buzz like a bee in my brain,
the energy of a snail.
This poem was published in Golden Hour - Hora Dorada
you can buy it by send a message with your address to
colm@ciarnain.com it costs 12€ + postage
here at Litteraturcentrum Kvu
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