I want to feel again
I want the fast heartbeats
The goosebumps in my belly
Feel the blood pumping in my veins
I want to feel again
I want that near death cliche
The thought of loosing everything
Mourn for my love, feel the ache
I want to feel again
See the light in the dark
Feel my heart as it restarts
And makes my life replay
I want to be happy
I want to be sad
I want to be angry
I want to be calm
Oh i want to feel again
But i am stuck with emptiness
I sit quietly to myself.
Making note of each event.
With every passing inscription.
It gets easier to watch.
The world seems between us.
When we promised the stars to one another.
And as they began to fall from that very sky.
We were surprised.
The bones have healed wrong.
Adding more and more scar tissue ever night.
Some have even gathered to witness this last dying wish.
It seems to dangle in the sea of the forgotten.
We look so much more now that there isn't anything to see.
Hoping that something will revesere.
Grant us a version of some revision that was thought of so many dawns ago.
Thoughts of such rarely seem plausible anymore.
I am just a scribe.
One to take note of all that was supposed to be.
Observer what is.
And weep for what will never be.
Spending too much time.
On mismanaging it.
That all I am.
Is another ghoul.
Haunting a stranger's timeline.
Time to rewind.
This is just the red hand
Clenching to our demise.
Again and again,
These stalking shadows
But accumulated memories
Frozen and entombed in the burrows,
Of irresistible vacancies.
These shadows filter an echoed voice
So distant and empty.
Humming his plan in disguise
Behind the shady screens of mockery.
The lack of verb.
The momentary whispers
Trembling and capturing the smoke,
Releasing around the barriers,
Creating an ephemeral noose.
Taking me away with the disappearing sparks that fly.
Trembling upon this noose,
Knots tangle in white rope
With a twinkle in its eye
Woven and stitched
in the last futuristic glimpse
Of setting free
And finally letting go.
If I could be the one you want
That song in your soul always on repeat
Just a glance could save my life
Give back my breath and beating heart
Carry these crippling doubts away
If I could be myself for once
That book your heart just can't put down
Just a smile could break my silence
Give back these hands and moving feet
Scare these dripping fears away
If I could be a human being
That movie your spirit knows word for word
Just a truth could set me free
Give back the hope and fading strength
Wipe these shameful tears away
If I could be the friend forever
That call your being waits for all day
Just a hug could ease my soul
Give back these eyes and trembling voice
Take this dying boy away
I washed three times but still:
I smell the vile breath, and still
I see the sunken bloodshot eyes
a pain too deep and miserable to scream
from its open grave, vestige of human lies.
Tomorrow your vacant eyes will not remember this face
yet the fetid smell will not ever leave my head.
Again and again it plays,
the blurry vision of a heat induced hallucination
sneaking up, once again, to threaten my sanity.
I thought it was a child,
an innocent, ill-fated child on a bike,
perhaps still burning, perhaps still alive.
Yet all I could find was the shell of a human life
bruised by a world which is infinitely unkind.
As you blinked at me and slurred your dissent
I disentangled your legs from the wheels
tugged you out of your certain crematorium
dead weight to weak arms and shaky knees,
dead weight to all our cushioned lives.
My abandoned car blinked furiously
ignored by the lives that unblinkingly drove by
No longer human, no longer of use,
illegal smelly immigrant
I wretched violently on the way home
the smell of your skin on my clothes and hands
the unsettling disgust in humanity
steeped into my disillusioned plans.
Only one man stopped:
‘anche io sono straniero ma…’
His conscience dirtied by judgement over judgement
your rotten breath etched deep into his identity
an anchor of blame which has nowhere tangible to go
defensive and defenceless to this worldwide generalisation.
Anche io sono straniero ma.
Did I really save your life, did I choose to be this way?
To follow the trail in the grass
where the cheap boxed wine pulls drunkards off course.
To acted upon automation, like the Belding’s ground squirrel,
putting itself in danger in the name of evolution.
You asked god to bless me but did I really do you a kindness?
Or should I have let the heat put you to sleep, cease your pain?
Head nuzzled in the prickly grass, feet tangled in your rusty bike
barbed wire inches from your eye
invisible to the road, invisible to the world.
And as xenophobia prevails, as hatred and fear win the UK
and all these cars speed away, I feel lonely and wired incorrectly.
I taste your lips like the cotton candy
of a Newark sky, laced
with smog and dysentery. You lift
me up, roll me over and draw
me toward you. The gravitational pull--
'on my hair and tell me you love me'--
of your shoulders
and the intoxication of your
voice. Craning my neck
to hear--'you love me'--the grip
of your hands
on my throat.
The city is loud. Just
loud enough to make me
gasp through the static
of your car radio, pressing--'up
against me, saying that you
want me'--all the buttons. Just change
the station. Where we sway
and rock and undulate against
smoggy windows and candied skies.
This last goodbye
tastes different from
my first time, clutching--
'my back and moaning out lullabies'--
the shift stick. Put it in
neutral. We can just coast
from here and take it
easy--'she's so'--easy. Easy
falling into and letting fall and keeping--
'next to me forever, right where
I want you'--from falling
over and over the bricks
of your building, shaking
the foundation, the exact
same way. You loved me
like a super dome and expanded
the words of your cityscape: a nice
addition, in need
of renovation. In need
of replacement. The cycle of
recycled buildings and shadowy skies.
The monotonous gossip
of a Newark morning drawn out
past the night.
you ripped my heart out
and you kept it for yourself
you tried giving it back to me
piece by piece
so that you could see
just how badly i wanted you
it was a fucking game
which you gained pleasure from
when all i screamed for when it was all over
was for my heart back
broken or whole
yet you kept control
and i am the one feeding your own heart
with this now hollow chest
and gauging emptiness you left