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Close to nothing at all

There is no religion here

Just explosions of strange, coloured fancy

To meet the day with, to chase the daylight 

On a road to nowhere

From grasping fingers of sight

Don’t fear the night, anymore than you would fear me

Whilst wrapped in my gaze, embraced with unremitting

Acceptance

Inside this embrace a thousand unspoken glances can be seen

A thousand unspoken words cannot be heard 

My blood nurtured you once, 

My thoughts pass you by with a light touch

This fuck martyr

Small piece, just this small piece

That summer day holding closely

 

Scrubbed bare and empty

An invitation to the last dance

I know you lie

 

I will take the bruises

Hit me hard

Don’t want to be cast in cold and stone

 

We had a deal

This helping social time

To help me feel

 

We had a deal

Though you were unaware I was consumed

Let me go

 

Be fucking insincere

I can be the lonely one

 

I’ve been lately

Less hasty

In waiting

For every empty promise

You and I know

It’s the end of the day

The smallest, gentle gesture

Steals hope away

You take more than I offer

I’m undone

And you

You watch the bead of sweat roll down the bottleneck

There is the whole other life for life

A chance, some blinding glare

Where, cheers, this glance

Became more than a whispered piece 

of mourning

What am I, this piece of your game

It is the wrong time to pull me through

There is no appropriate ignorance 

plans and delicacy

This is no vernacular romancing

Finding yourself in my shoes

Shut the curtains

And let my mind wander idly

Gathering 

Wool

Moss

Stone

Time

 

I will play you 

One slow song

for you to succumb

I’m not done 

with 

you on your knees

I will feed wine

to you

like this life

depended 

on little else

Than doing me wrong

I only

Want to make you feel

Over 

your head

Be as fucking insincere

as lonely makes you

Somehow

Your gone

Pig… Ignorant

He was pig ignorant

as the ignorance finds another hook to lay it’s hat

and crosses the room to stand directly to my left

not acknowledging this loss of 30+ years

30 years, three decades, three small lifetimes

without acknowledgement

enough time for pain, shame, and dreams to be shattered

enough time for time to shift the dynamic

from the wait of corruption and disdain

 

30 years of pig ignorance, or knowing you are priority zero

trapped in this triangle of contribution

Ignorance when the patterns shine through the sunlight

Blocking the warmth

The claustrophobic reality of dependence

The shivering path of acceptance

Lonely and painful adult understanding

in infancy

pupated and torn

Swollen, bloody silence

 

As your ignorance, your pig ignorance

leads you to the Bugle, to the arms of neglect to drown yourself

in cheap perfume and cheaper wine by the gallon

To tabloid outrage and no better place

to cheap resentments at any different face

with no reflection, no gland ego the side 

to see where your pig ignorance led

for those you pushed to the outskirts

I don’t even know what to call you

But that article in the Guardian

The letters people wish they could send

It struck me as being particularly apt that you came to mind

Because I could have written a thousand letters that you will never read

 

Never know the origin of

Never understand

know existed

 

Much like this fruit of your loins

Born out of some ignorant, base, spent description of passion

Spawned screaming, into artex ceiling, candlewick gleam

Got to keep the circle turning

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