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April 20, 2018

I am glad that it was my passing

That brought on the collapse.

The short circuit. Now, without light,

Happily. It’s most pleasant, give or take.

Some struggle to their doors. I smile,

Only one step endangers me.

The bulb is never replaced, will never be,

Future tense or present. Oh, this period

Of the year brings on my weakness,

Ultimate. Last night, I read politics.

Political histories. Don’t judge me,

There’s nothing of more significance.


My cat slips and falls, again and again,

Just once, five flights up, and end.

I don’t think that I should be judged,

Eight thousand six hundred, etc.

Etc, full stop. So says editor,

I say no. I defy him, and my doctor.

Who says I’m fine. I die of lack of energy,

I do what I can. One week: all I need.

I don’t need your meeting, friend,

I need to work through exhaustion.

Instead I sleep it through. Quite an annoyance,

I skip it instead: listening to music.

Not modern music, nor classical. Medieval,

In Ireland we have much song, in France.

All differs, not depending on regions, geographic,

Historic. Historically we were born of sleep.


They’re burying me under rubble,

Once, I was very generous.

I was mistaken in my generosity:

The bills would come, and come.

This state wants me gone,

Wants my blood: a blood sacrifice.

It’s not cruel; it’s tradition,

You fool. Go home to your nothing.

Here, all’s work. We hear voices,

The voices of work.


I blew it all in one hand,

Blew my fortune and all.

Hark! I blew a fuse,

Electrical wires. Electrical tape.

Call, no answer from the receiver,

Sorry, I’m late. He’s late also.

No problem. Couples, hand in hand,

Couples, go into rendezvous together ….

Hand in hand. Soon, the day will come,

Exhaustion will break my writing hand.


A quick glance: did she notice?

Slightly older. Too late for children.

Is she a teacher? Does she hold the fort of a library?

Neither. She’s a housewife, with housewife duties.

And what exactly are housewifely duties?

Making calls, making calls. Today, she’s ill.

Stopping, starting, breaking spirits,

Calling, leaving no message.

Doctor: stop this drug,

I: okay. I do as he says.


Singing crazily in supermarket queues,

She’s quite a beauty: my beauty.

In supermarket aisles she dances, manic,

My beauty. Stay with me.

Don’t retreat to suburbs,

And open sewers. They’ll eat you alive.

Until your carcass is nothing but bones,

Bloody bones. A mess in the sewer streams.


Careful, careful: we trot along,

Crash, crash: the sound of construction.

He’s now dead: we now watch him,

With envy. Why do we not surmise and such?

He is simply a dead man, outcast,

Forgotten? Not as such, but maybe.


Travelling far for cinema,

And it’s a strike day and all.

I only eat cereal: I’m gracious,

Sometimes bread with jam.

The food of the recluse,

No one to call. Awaiting a call.

A messenger will come,

Dressed in period costume.


I laugh gaily, for she died young,

Most known, in her circle.

Why, love? If you need drugs, come

Here. Now I need one less:

Now, it’s yours. Rejoice, love.

Lover, rejoice. Why so melancholic, always,

They broke your heart? Don’t say that.


They say the trial killed him, and yes?

Henceforth? I barely killed him myself.

Locked away as he was: cloistered,

Who dosed whom? Overdosed.

He paid money to be doomed

To the grave …. who paid whom?

We lived lavishly here,

Away! Away with you! No more to add.

I’ve no more to say, to you or others,

Famous last words: I speak endlessly.

Eternally, until they’re all asleep,

And hence, I walk out, free, the sun on my back.


Death by lethal injection,

Death by suicide.

I killed to be killed,

It was a suicidal act,

My homicidal act,

And I handed myself in.

I submitted to all their questioning,

All their torture and torment.

We believe in capital, not corporal, punishment,

I understand the logic: soon dead.


A strange man comes and speaks to me,

A priest, a man with a strange accent.

Hence, we walk along a road?

A golden road. Sorry. But,

I never repented. I regret nothing,

Except my statutory rape, of years past.

They’ve all now long forgot,

I was feeling, I feel (past and present), most alone.


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