1979

I take the pages of the book and
Hold them close. The scent of
Promises, self written, but still promises,
Clouds the words, and I read them all wrong.

There is a space in my mind.
A space for rent.
No use to me, and I have realised
Maybe it's best to just let someone else
Have a go.

Like having a kitchen without knowing how to cook
Like having a fishing rod but losing the hook
Like owning the sun, but not being able to look.
Like understanding how much of my life you took.

All I needed, was a drop of ink
Lying blood falling, lying breath stalling
And I grasped it by the hurt.
And steered it into first, an unimaginable
Crying speed, on and on and on and on

But
Soon, I run out.
And my thoughts, they skid
To a halt. Now, lost in a world
Which I have no recollection of.

I check the map; must have misread the signs.
I fell in the trap. Made up whatever I wanted
In between the lines. But who could I kid.
It just so happens that I imagined the water
Flowing out of what used to be a tap.
Now rusting away...I want to
Get rid of the things I have seen
To re-plan my route, to retake my turn
To unspeak what I have spoken.
But what I know, it fuels the burn
And soon blackened coal once again
Will tower above.
I must cut it out of myself
If at all possible, I know, so obscene.
But from now on I'll keep my heart clean.
Need to break out of the impression
(Or else in this fuming world I'll choke)
That there can be fire without smoke.