POEM: ‘Glossolalia’

Tears running down my face
Like little cars fuelled by misery.
Asphyxiate anxiety
Water to blood in my hands.
Fucked virgin canvas
Too many characters
Too many characters
A sanguine Salinger
Tragedy made flesh
Peel it off and sell a million.

Laying lifeless, coagulated
Toss and turn for hours
Finally finding comfort in the shape of a perfect swastika
Naughty little Jew
Taking comfort over history.
Keeping an eye open for new knives in the back
Unfettered vendettas and vitriolic vampires
Sucking the life out of me
Sucking the me out of life.

‘Marquee Moon’
The music is cutting edge.
Cutting.
On edge.
I may see no evil but I feel it in the air
An atmosphere of dour despair.
In my mind’s eye
The hourglass is almost out of sand
I’m running out of breath
There’s no time to feel sorry anymore.
One more thought for the Pauper’s Grave –
Without love, life is meaningless motion.
Emergency stop.

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