This year

I haven’t sat and thought.
I never stopped and wondered.
Each new year I sit, I dread.
I think and dream.
Remember.
I look for solid words to put with my year.
Music thumps towards my ears and I-
I remember.
It saddens me. Make me cry.
Reflections morose, stoic and melancholy.
I think of my choices, and wonder why.
And realize it was mostly folly.

This year was different.
Shivering and fearful.
Spending time with my sister;
Beyond what I had planned.
Afraid and jittery, tears rolling.
Her head lolling.
My arms in a cross over her prone and vomiting figure.
As she rocked and rolled, crying and confused her way into twentyseventeen.
I shook with fury. Teeth gritting and pain surging through my temples and out of my eyes. Out, out, out into the world.
And so I do not make contact with people, I look away-
I stare off into the middle space, seeking a healthy distance.
Despondent and peaceful to the outward observer.
Beneath I seethe.
I hide deep inside myself.
I am strong for others until my time comes to crack.
A full unveiling. A violent fury, that engulfs any material that comes into contact.
I will be wreckful.
There will be havoc and danger.
A whirl of the wind will die away in my presence.
Cool and grim.
Heavy like gold, stubborn as mucus.

And this time of year, the energy of others.
What are you doing.
And i’m so scattered.
My wish is to be alone.
I need to hide, such a strong network of people. Demanding entertainment.
Ideas and missions of all kinds.
Its horrible, heinous.
I am divided.
Scattered to stupidity.
And my wants fragment.
My hypocritic, monkey brain. Fractures of binary.
I say yes when I should say no.
I say yes when I have made other plans.
I say yes to challenge myself.
I say yes to make myself busy.
To make things difficult.
To double book.
To experience ritual death-
Free time, apologize, offer up nice thoughts.
Consolidate. Mourn. Time’s passing and I-
I just wait and waffle and feel the need to move.
Move yet frozen in a haze of lazy nothingness.
A perfect cube of ice with me inside.
Numb and unreflecting. Pushed from the summit of some great mountain.
Past the tower, where men and women cry out.
Every jealous language under the son rattles around the valley.
It resonates as a hum, like furious bees attacking paper thin walls.
Babes cry out, and their language of discovery, fear, hunger and exhaustion reek of the basic human connections. Signifying nothing but the reduction of our race as it continuously reforms and resets.
Good ideas and frail wants grow with language and baby steps of the many skinned locust. Rubbing together, itching legs in the muds of eternity.
But time will tell through a gentle breeze;
Easing itself gently between you and you loved ones.
This change, ongoing, spinning beyond your control.
Farther out-there than your perspective.
And the sickness that sets in with this knowledge.
The skeptisism, and vomiting when you spin as your surroundings.
When you are full.
The fuel of your own downfall.
And you pass it on, like the disgusting downtrodden dollar bill of the Americas.
You pass it on though its valued just the same.
The overall worth changes.
Ripples of greeds, of wants.
Flux. Unfixable until death did us part.
Timeliness, and flowers.
Cheap hacks of significance.
Functioning to remedy and show the fickle nature of life.
The expenses of each breath-
of comfort. The grains of wood scratch and spliter you.
Eternity has not worn this table top down.
No number of elephants scratching themselves of a tingle could rub smooth this surface.
Like the pills mother used to leave by the bench.
Unswallowable. Iron, zinc, vitamins and rainbows of nonsense.
Placebo, and the matter of ones mind.
The aging of one’s skin.
The forgetfulness of our mind.
The anger of your jawline.
The jowls of comfort.
The absent minded chomping down.
The snort and snore.
Slurping and gulping and hiding and crying.
So fragile, so resplendent in a few days of exercise.
A lifestyle, hard fought. Tanned and toned and that I envy.

You pretended to yourself that you organised things.
You hurt me beyond the grave.
You hid from the photography.
In solitude you escaped so many things.
In this sacred hermitude you reveled and revealed your artistic function.
Playing a role, eating and sleeping unrestful and ill.
But a void you did fill,
occupy with safety and love.
So much of that, which my heart would not have otherwise.
The late nights, static charging over my eyes.
Black and white with exhaustion.
Colour burnt from my retina.
Recognition and definition mingling.
Strange feelings of cold and cloud.
A mist of grey, that voidless space. Filled with nothing.
Not asking anything of emotional toil or reaction.
Just flat. Flabbergasted grey.
Not hot. A mystery of negative space.
Reviled by boatsmen.
Hearders and flock.
And we, all of us experience it.
Our bones, refrigerated. Once clean-
one defined cut.
A bleep, somewhere out there.
No true north.
Magnets eat away at our hearts.
Lungs lost to pneumonia.
Fear bespoke. Untimely, lifesupport and a haze of hateful memories.
Abortion and life.
The thin red line for everyone to read into and acknowledge.
Go out there with an energy and zest.
Or be like my english father says:
The English grew cunty.
Separated, exasperated, depressed and un-loving.
And our material worth grows.
From day one.
The ham wallet of our parental, familial bond.
The blue eyes and blonde hair of my childhood.
The snippets, cutout and scrapbooks.
They disintergrate, parting in shreds.
A heart. Red, pulsing, made out of glass.
Dropped!
And its as if in a film,
slow motion, shattering.
the whirl of the celestial being.
The nod of the planets.
And catastrophic arm of gravity.
Catapulting god and misunderstanding into our stagnant, forgetful pond.
We question the fiber of each shard.
The breakoffs,
tangents of lost times and ideas.
Our influence fades with the grip of our ageing hands.
Fettered, flaking skin.
Pockered cheeks.
Sunken eyes.
Breath of vinegar and mustard.
Salt crusted lips.
Lathered calved, knees of gold prepare us for one final jump.
Jump on plunge.
We may at any time suffocate;
drowning as I did this night gone.
We stood above the crowd.
I thought to spit.
A young woman smuggled into the auditorium upstairs,
to celebrate a birthday.
To drink under age! Such a rush I felt in this dreamstate.
Cheese dreams perhaps -dairy digestion-
But I felt attractions.
Two women.
One with amber hair. Bejeweled.
Glass of riches. My eyes screwed deep into the substance of their reality.
Impenetrable, perfection. Height of riches.
Emerald could have been here name as she wore, almost black sapphires that glittered under the chandelier.
My heart raced for her desires.
I envied those that would court her.
Then to my alarm, I awoke and sprung from bed.
As waking at a time specified is a regime that cannot be hindered or helped.
I am here.
The day has begun.
I have done it all wrong.
I fear and fear and fear-
Staying strong for others until my time comes.

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