January 1, 2011


I've grown wings
a beautiful pair
enhancing my reflection
Am I already there?

Bones and bruises, this I choose
solid matter versus abstract confusion
– pretending I've got nothing to lose
may well be the ultimate delusion.

Efficiency proved after the fact
vivid colours make it worthwhile
glittering noise just to distract
on broken lips a broken smile.

In this best of possible realities
call it a charming way of coping
this utilitarian method of death
some weird error in the wiring
call it my little pet insanity.

Granted, it's a strange concept
this incremental disappearance
in agonising hope I'm trapped
not knowing needs nor wants.

Excess and absence taking turns
as the floor dances beneath my feet
curled up beneath skin, scars, burns
I'm willing my heart to beat.

As I fade away surreptitiously:
Am I strong enough yet?

– What good are wings
that you can't spread?

—–Oct 2010 (which makes it outdated, at least for the time being)


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