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…


giving up



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