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Divided Self

 

The children aren’t safe from me,

bind my hands and feet.

Electrocute me, suffocate me,

Still my heart’s dread beat.

I’ve massacred creation

in the blinking of an eye:

genocide; infanticide.  Oh how they cried!

My poisoned thoughts are detonators

buried with the fear.

Power the dreaded generator,

pull the trigger near.

The hangman whistles night away,

he’s hungry for his keep.

Malevolence come drown me.

Oh the skies again shall weep!

Monster, bathe me in your blood.

Protect me.  From myself.

magazine  GMA%201115

 

 

 

Neglect Of Self

 

You could peel the dirt with your fingernails.

My skin’s a festering sore.

I haven’t washed for forty days.

My clothes are growing mould.

The cavities are gnawing.

Decay is costing teeth.

Lice are bedding in my scalp.

Sleep brings no relief.

Urine stings like sulphur.

My breath’s an acid flame;

Bed sheets sour the atmosphere.

My limbs are turning lame.

This illness will consume me,

these bones, this ashen face.

Shade and light confound me.

Nights run into days…

They’re banging on my door again,

or is it just the voices in my head?

My train is coming.  Death is looming, I can tell.

I’m 21 tomorrow and my life’s a living hell.

0Burra%20Blasted%20Oak,%20Arts%20Council%20Collection,%20Soutbank%20Centre,%20London,%20Estate%20of%20the%20Artist%20care%20of%20Lefevre%20Fine%20Art%20Ltd,%20London%20(high)

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