I’ve been sitting on the precipice of this

For a while

Unsure how to express my feelings

When I don’t know what I feel

You see 

I’m hysterically nonreactive 

I’m worryingly unworried 

A switch 

From nothing to everything 

Because - like Whitman -

I contain multitudes

Many great thrashing waves

Like creatures 

They slip through nets

Can’t be caught 

They...

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I know I traded something

A part of me

For the splendid splendour of money

I did that thing you shouldn’t do

I gave myself to him

You know, the soul

Cut a piece of myself out for him

You know, the heart

I cut a piece of myself off for him

(You know which part)

But I didn't feel a thing

I'm waiting to miss it

Miss this

Thing

I'm waiting for the pain

You...

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The monster digs it's claws in tight
I can't escape it, with all my might
I want to run away or hide
But today, with you, I stand to fight
The dark won't win, only light

I can feel the thread, moving my limbs
Like a puppeteer is pulling the strings
I see myself saying and doing these things
As the pied pipers' flute continues to sing

The voices that speak so clearly to me
Try to chan...

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It’s 1:30 am.

He takes me away from the others unpacking,

opens the front door to the first night

in our first home and squirts WD-40

over both hinges, explains

WD is water dispersal,

NASA concocted this stuff

to keep fields of rockets

from turning orange, then burnt umber.

He heard this on his pocket radio

cycling along blustery North London roads

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