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I Dont Like It Here

i am a creation of empty minded sex
and anger that plucks the heads from flowers
i come from broken glass absorbed into the front seat
from a desolated house 
where plates and pillows whisper dirty words
where mirrors dont hold reflections

i dont know how to form the letter u 
i dont know where to put my tongue
or how to press my lips together
without flinching 
or digging my fingernails into my palms

i surrendered my name
my body 
my mind
to nurses in white coats and strangers with name tags i will not read
i pulled the strings from my hoodies and left them at home
in the bottom of the hamper where i forgot my tongue
i tied my shoelaces on hooks where my face hangs to dry 

i sit and watch formless bodies pass 
i cannot close my eyes
i cannot recognize the person i see
he is staring so intently at me
devouring my thoughts 
emptying my mind of reason
tipping his brows upwards until his forehead tears and his mouth waters
is he speaking?
i cannot hear his voice 
it morphs into flat tones that throb against my forehead
i cannot answer the questions he asks me
but i cannot leave until i do

i didn’t ask for dinner
i push the food around my plate
make piles in the corners so it looks like i ate
i see faces when i look down
they look hopeless 
they beg for me to come with them

i swallow green pills and blue pills and white pills until my throat aches 
and i cannot see the world around me
my pupils are wrapped in cellophane
the doctor says it’s normal

i do not like it here
i dont like it here on this earth
maybe i’m made for a different earth
one with red skies and purple grass 
and homes made of straw
that moan when you exhale
i dont think that would be so bad
something apart from all this

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 4/4/2020 4:06:00 PM
very effective - especially now we have coronavirus Maybe you can read my Back to Belfast?
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things