We are such fragile things,
vulnerability exposed over single words,
voices, relentless pounding, mocking, senseless motives,
curling up on the floor, beating at the darkness with clenched fists,
subjectively futile as we grasp at the sunrise of another new day.

© H V Swan

Messed me around
Against
Taking your words out of your chest
I know you got it in for me
We should break the tension
Against
The floor that you’ll land
Against

Against
Wish me luck cuz you know I’m going to get you
We’ll have a *******: you, me and my fist
Could you consider not having me fooled
I’m going to be a **** star and use your name
People will think it’s you so prepare to be embarrassed
Oh you won’t fool me again
Against

downtown is
a much newer scene than even
i thought it’d be - i was
prepared to be
a novice. i was prepared to be
out of place. and this was
nothing, i could handle these
old odd eyes, i just
wasn’t ready to feel so
dropped in.

but i’d drawn a diagram
of this situation,
a different specific

(*******.
i can’t hear myself think)

why am i surprised to feel
so dropped in
when i’ve drawn it?
drawn upon it?

why am i surprised
that a new brand new
situation feels
just the same as the new situations
of before, when i’ve
had so many
that i can picture the the sensation
of my brain?

i’ve made a series of green lines
on a yellow, lined piece
of paper.

i’ve meant to take it
to my shrink for months.
once,
i had it in my purse and
my guts, when i entered,
decided to shrink.

i said
i was fine, and the same,
and i started to drop
the pills that stole my sleep
onto the streets.

it’s helped,
and i’m surprised. and my brain
feels more awake than
any other time
in the past
three
years…
so.

to which part of town
do i go to

from here?

******* the Tube

through hot walls  
echoes of balconies,
city of hushed shimmering steps
flying limbs, jumping, crashing,
a ***** animal noise in the haze,
imagined necks,
stretched out and glistening,
metallic clatterings,
misplaced booms and magnolia,
floating bicycles, no air,
impersonal muffled faces,
hearts, feet, sharpness,
meaningless cheap *** hotels,
sweating relief on the stairs
under the river

i saw a girl
with the eyes of endless clear days,
a stranger,
the curve of a rose,  
she stood, awake
by a door painted blue,
plain and complete

she must be new here

That man, that’s not me
Soon, I’m not here
Hold on
I disappear.

These days I drift away
Just turning round and round
You won’t
Let me down.

I’d change just for you
But never let me go
Fall back
In the arms I know.

In a while I’ll leave
Am I lost or found
You won’t
Let me down

people leave all the time
and all the time i find myself alone
and all the time im begging them to stay
but they come and go
and they do it
all
the
time

Morning:
My taken place at the faucet, a peer
Staring into eyes, not sworn to me
And I was standing, looking in the mirror
Speaking as my reflection
Spoke back to me.
I was shocked when he took my hand
Starting speaking about identity
I was shocked he knew so much
More of me
Than I.
He talked about my too-long hair
Or how good I looked in green
Or how messy my morning face could be
Or whether I was feeling smart or lean.
He knew it all:
I’d go so far to say more of me than I.

Evening:
Look to the east! A sun set
—Bravo! At least consistent and THEN gone.
Me? I’ve no such liberty
I couldn’t even tell, bereft a mirror,
The thing I like to call me.
Walking the roads, lined with lights
Bustling, living,
Lined with sights
Constituting the parts of me, invisible
—Added to nothing, they’re indivisible
Closed, exposed, fall and drizzle
Without the gall keep hold
From doors and boughs
In the windows—I’m there now
And THEN I’m gone.

Night:
The stone church’s door where
The righteous moor their souls
Piety flows
In its golden veins
And I’m there no more.
Their God does hate me
Without presence in the
Pews; I’m dross
Since the saint I chose
Was Saint Me beatified
Confirmed from the sinner Laity Goss
—So I turn
To the school affording play in my words
And a tact therefore
But rejects
All but their templates in blue shoes
Who sleight my for company
Only when within them
Or drowning in *****.
—So I turn
To the wilderness
Blooming in virginal grapes
Disrobed save the skin
Unfamiliar,
Self-aware but only on a whim
And whirlwinds that blow
Ice and shrapnel and
Exile me to the country
Where not but dearth may grow
In a single season of mine
—So I turn
Too afraid of that winter
So much more the fall
And me in the mirror
Knows it all, knows it plenty
A casual drop in a casual chat
About identity
—So I turn
Back to the mirror
Back to it all
With showers and pictures in its wall
Staring into eyes, sworn not to me
Speaking as my reflection
Speaks back to me
I was not shocked he knew so much
More of me than I,
Since he strides alongside mine
And only in a certain climb
Telling me
It’s almost time, I’m almost there
But it’s not clear in which direction,
Or where.

The vivacious little girl
occupying the table next, with her parents
counts me too, someone close to her
I don't know, what prompts this,
or why she wants to cheer me up.

Smiles at me like I am an uncle
lost for long and now found by chance,
offers a bite from her candy
with a conspiratorial wink.

Its a pity I lost touch
with that part of my psyche
that used to act like a kid
and rejoice, without a thought'
when something like this happens.

Yes, things change
you may not even sense it,
I suddenly realize.

I just look away and see
a bleak cloud fully lost all morning flush
at the corner of the sky limping forward,
dissolving little by little.