Put down your tools in disgust
and pick up your soul again
Who you are today is quite enough
It's more
Consent always carries the hidden dangers
that's what we are signing for?
Twisted scales of measured lives gone by
(slither from depths of a reticulated womb once more)
They're talking at us in percentages and probability
but it's just lip movements
and the sound of legal pressure
whistling through rusted pipes
Strands of hair catch nostalgic leaves
and merge into the long flow; whispers
What's my name? It most certainly isn't Jane
and it ain't "Ho" but I might have wings on your death-bed
(it's true)
A mere second forward in time does not exist
only hangs in your diary - taunting, entangled
and wishing for the peaceful answers
that reading the question again may bring
I can anaesthetise numb arteries
it burns for just 0.7 seconds before darkness
and stops you counting backwards
(hopelessly) from 10
This old one is in tatters with plastic knots
wrapped around a stolen cart
The something and nothings of survival
occupy a rushed space, with a furrowed brow
No worries
Watch the road with eyes shut tight
There's a significant difference
between the consistency of wrinkle cream
and the shit that keeps you awake
Bargaining for an extra hour in bed is futile
It lasts a few non-existent seconds really
Illusory free time, wasted in an unconsciousness
that has the same pouring time as treacle
Sleep now
We'll make more syrup for others to wade through
and lie in un-owned beds; writing stories for over thinkers
Choose a direction; grab my hair and pull hard
Analyse nothing - fake/take it all …
IN
Give nothing away
and occasionally change the sheets
~ Samantha Rae 2010
"You think when you wake up in the mornin’ yesterday don't count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it’s made out of. Nothin’ else."
— Cormac McCarthy (No Country for Old Men)
srwb 2010
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