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THE HAUNTING The smell of fresh begonias fanned by rooks and sparrows from the black ‘n’ white tiled balcony glowing in a sunset the colourof lovebites then the candle-glow dims in the fanfare of light you switch on from the hall filling the frosted door like cancer announcing another re-run of a once OK drama played out night after night wearing me down with your claims to what you believe is rightfully yours Excalibur arm pointing your ways I’m either paralysed or paralytic, hard to choose as I’m dumbed down by the never ending story of your nightly return mocking the symmetry of your eviction which gave me a callous, relieved joy … I’d put your bags back on the threshold right back where you’d stood with your Betty Blue smile expecting me to invite you in with a pout and a shout about that ******* kicking you out Good God, then as now you struck fear into the very heart of me Is it still enchanting? Do you thrive on eternal return? You linger, shadow filling in the flakes With your useless key before knocking. Stop. You. Again. Shape-shifter Black strychnine swab Running through me like a swallowed blood clot making my emptiness fistula full Listening to your black-bordered rap of funeral amazement delivering your message That you’ll return eery night to reclaim what you say is yours buried in these walls like a tic.
0
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
The Haunting
THE HAUNTING The smell of fresh begonias fanned by rooks and sparrows from the black ‘n’ white tiled balcony glowing in a sunset the colourof lovebites then the candle-glow dims in the fanfare of light you switch on from the hall filling the frosted door like cancer announcing another re-run of a once OK drama played out night after night wearing me down with your claims to what you believe is rightfully yours Excalibur arm pointing your ways I’m either paralysed or paralytic, hard to choose as I’m dumbed down by the never ending story of your nightly return mocking the symmetry of your eviction which gave me a callous, relieved joy … I’d put your bags back on the threshold right back where you’d stood with your Betty Blue smile expecting me to invite you in with a pout and a shout about that ******* kicking you out Good God, then as now you struck fear into the very heart of me Is it still enchanting? Do you thrive on eternal return? You linger, shadow filling in the flakes With your useless key before knocking. Stop. You. Again. Shape-shifter Black strychnine swab Running through me like a swallowed blood clot making my emptiness fistula full Listening to your black-bordered rap of funeral amazement delivering your message That you’ll return eery night to reclaim what you say is yours buried in these walls like a tic.
phillip-oneil
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
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