(I’m scared,

oh boy, I’m more than terrified

that everything I say or do has no effect

and no,

that’s not what I’m trying to say)

I’m scared of the day when

I reduce you to less than you are,

I trivialise, deride you, play your

weaknesses and faults

against you, say you

were no more or less than any other

to cover up my tracks

and dowse myself in lines

and wine

and sleep as if I’d never slept:

awake and lie all day in bed,

saying thinking nothing.


and now I’m almost thinking

I’d be better off to skip this –

stop, just lose your lovely

faultlessness –

confess it’d all been a charm,

a dream or something, nothing

(a spin in a cynical light)




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