Tag Archives: immunity

cup.

another one
for the cup:
cup of sugar,
cup of tea,
cup of soup.

another one
for the cup:
cup of dust,
cup of glass,
cup of blades.

another one
for the cup:
cup of blood,
cup of salt,
cup of hair.

another one
for the cup:
cup of nails,
cup of grass,
cup of pain.


[okay]?

what happened?
it’s okay.

where did you go?
it’s okay.

how’s your heart?
it’s okay.

is it dark?
it’s okay.

are you alone?
it’s okay.

when will it stop?
it’s okay.

why not?
it’s okay.

it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.
it’s okay.


organ donor.

slice me open,
take my lungs:
they have overcome asthma;
broken the limits of anxiety; and
suffered the deepest grief and pain.
still i breathe.
take my lungs.

slice me open,
take my liver:
it was once clean and pure,
until annihilated in a moment;
but time and time over, proof of natural restoration.
still i heal.
take my liver.

slice me open,
take my heart:
it is cool to touch;
ice-like and made of broken stone;
simultaneously rough and fragile.
still i live.
take my heart.

slice me open,
take my [life].


downgrade.

like a couple who grows old,
the children leave home,
and the family dwelling
is too big, too unweldy
to maintain.
nostalgia and grief:
downgrade.

like the unwilling assessment
of credit risk and consumer confidence.
black marks and a world renowned
rating scale.
disappointment and reluctance:
downgrade.

like two lovers.
entrenched in expectations
that became too big; unweldy.
a growing risk profile.
nostalgia.
disappointment.
reluctance.
grief.

downgrade.


past.

he is.
i am.
we were.

your touch
is cold
and forced.

my throat
is dry
and empty.

your heart
is small
and fragile.

my fingertips
are reluctant
and strained.

your brand
of love
isn’t mine.

my lungs
keep aching
for more.

your ribs
are bruised
with effort.

you are.
i am.
we were.


infinite.

imagine if we met,
before time had burnt us;
before the heat
was pooled at my feet.

i would clasp your hand
for eternity;
and the grey burdens
would be warmer and shared.

silence could protect us,
as we built a nest:
preparing for hibernation
in an infinite winter.


A N D.

i play video games
and watch cars
drive past;
louder and faster,
then smaller and
silence.

find solace in
blind, unconditional
dependence.
soft and forgiving,
then warmer and
silence.

scars and bloody bruises
shake my shoulders
and i wear the pain;
fragile and tender;
then war wounds and
silence.

no more words
and no more tears;
her heart is empty again;
dull and dark;
then grey and rotting and
silence.

food is tasteless
and dreams offer
reluctant fuel;
extract my memories
then mute the pain and
silence.


slow.

i followed
the escape;
until finally
it was too
slow,
and i built
up the strength
to pass.


safe.

now i understand
why my wrists
have been aching –
it’s where you
held me
while i struggled.
as you spat
at me,
and i begged you
to go.
as you raged
at my riddled body,
and i begged you
to go.

i know
it’s always my fault;
i know
there’s no point arguing.
i am reduced
to the pathetic doll
once again.
another christmas
and another year
pretending.

i thought
you knew.
and i thought
i could be loved
by you.
turns out,
it’s all
just the same.
but now i understand
why my wrists
have been aching.

you might
as well
compare notes.


disparate.

and then reality
broke through
her skin
with the fierceness
of a blade;
and waves upon waves
of self-loathing
and the impracticalities,
the burden
of this depressed life.
her head falls
to the caress
of her sweaty,
oily palms.

how to destroy
this feeling?

these days,
her fingers only
stop shaking
when sleep
engulfs her
bleak, diseased body.
she’s seen
the despair before,
but somehow
this entrapment
is different.
she is a fool
faking the light,
before it attacks again.