Poem
I.
One in a million,
he screamed.
I'm one in a million,
can't you see that?
Can't you feel that?
What's wrong with you?
I love you so much,
it is volcanic pain,
boiling hellfires,
seed of diamond
roaring, rising,
splintering, splitting
my red raw insides open wide,
a bloodfall cascade of writhing guts,
essential organs
falling at your feet,
crawling towards you,
flailing tentacles of love -
and you, you just stand there,
as though I wasn't even here,
as though I was - nothing.
I tried.
I really did.
But all I could see
was an angry
naked man.
II.
You are alive.
Here - listen.
Your heart is beating,
your breath rushes like the tides,
if you are very still,
you can hear your own blood
humming in your fingertips,
in your neck.
No more games.
No more hellfire.
Just you and me.
That's much scarier
by far.
III.
You're one in a million,
he sighed and then he cried,
although he tried
to hold the mask.
But I remained
unmoved and waited
until that next diversion
had been played out too,
right down to the very last card
remaining in the pack.
Which leaves us where,
exactly?
No, don't touch me yet.
You're not ready.
Face me, if you dare.
Show me
you're a man.
IV.
This is unknown,
he said, his voice was
dark and different.
I do not know you.
I do not recognise you.
You are mystery to me.
And it was then
I bowed my head
and I concurred
with both the statement
and the sentiment.
What can you show me?
What can I see?
Are you afraid?
Yes. And excited.
Wide eyed in wonder,
step ashore,
explorer. |
© SFX 06
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