giving up

front row seats

to the fight of your life,

the runway flights in the night,

the flashing lights calling.

take a step

make the move or

stay in the groove…

.

the closet doors banging

the unforgettable you.

truth has nothing to do.

silence is a crime.

i will not be ignored.

is more like it…

.

but you will listen

or pretend to.

but it will jerk you up…

eff you up.

.

hidden away in the kitchen.

as stubborn as a hard on.

and you have your hands full.

formalin trips, pretentious quips.

hold on to my quill…

.

i’ll take you some where.

somewhere past time…

beyond the groping

of judgement and intrusive guilt.

.

into darkness.

into yourself…

.

chasing after covering words

for your cowering nakedness.

dancing shadows.

i drag you to hell.

like truth.

i watch.

.

you must love me

.

you should hate me.

until you hear

the noises in my head.

nowhere to run. nowhere to turn.

.

then its just pictures.

pounding nails.

ground opens.

church bells.

.

the beginning

of claustrophobia

‘turn to your neighbour’

or knock on the door

louder than the hymns

.

almost doesn’t count

when you are boxed in

kicking, in a coffin!

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