“In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
where no-one sees you, but
sometimes I do, and
that sight becomes this art.”
― Rumi

Thursday, January 31, 2008

part 2: who am I kidding

pain is white
and searing
and vengeful
and cruel
and it hits below the belt
- always
and it hurts
so much

it's like when you are walking about in the dark
on a cold morning
and then you stub your toe
for a moment

you

are

suspended

in a world of your own

and then it's a right hook
and a left
and a right again
you are reeling
but pain doesn't care
it holds nothing back
lets it rip
leaves you bloody and bruised
but it doesn't stop

and then ...
a turning point
you see why

so you take it on the chin
and you join in
your mind is a little Ed Norton
you are your own fight club
you like pain
it was all a misunderstanding
pain is your friend
long lost friend

you realise
you have a war (cry) in you
just waiting

this is nothing new
I have always liked picking at my scabs
just to see how much they'll bleed

that's why
today morning
after the freak hailstorm
I opened the little blue box
to look inside

didn't make me feel any better

I just like picking at my scabs

No comments: