For always Never important Never priority Subordinate Subprime Back burner Bottom of the list I’ll grab hold Take responsibility Accountability Hold space The short straw Give time; life; my life They need time Time to decide Time to process Time to grow Time to transmit data I’ll wait in line— Be quiet Patient Cradled in shadows With the stone on my throat Making silent melody with the stab in my belly I feel it, no one need see Been well trained to hold my breath anyway With my head shoved under water A well-conditioned good fucking girl Like my parents taught me Everyone and everything else first I’ll make the calls Reply to the letters Sweep crumbs Stitch the damage— I’m handy with a needle ‘n’ thread Make the appointments Make the sacrifices Oh, you need to change that? No problem (just mine, and the inconvenience) No passive aggression, it’s just that thing they say—it is what it is, right? I have an abundance of acceptance Another letter through the mailbox Hits the floor with a thud Cracks the concrete They want more blood To be sure? Another vile Chemical markers spelling suspicion in code I’ve to chase another system While smiling reassuring to a stranger ‘I’ll take care of you’ Natalie, was it? No, Nicola Sure, my name doesn’t matter either I’ll wait again Until doors open Queues thieve more time Window B for blood More waiting in line Another process Chasing a letter they’ll claim not to have— Again Like that text— It all feels the same More blood More time More life (mine) And I remember the lover who gifted their blood to me— That was a far gone yesterday The eyes lied like love does Those are running out I’m drowning I’ll continue to tread water Like those eggshells Cutting my soul I should have fucking gills by now From all the slices The little fishes gnaw We’re intimately acquainted Maybe I’d feel lonely if they weren’t pulling Little chunks from my flesh It tickles when they tear skin With tiny pinching teeth— I laugh - nervous - must be fine How could I ever be alone With them there Grazing my ribs, Drawing blood that colours the ocean I’m filling up the tub Making rainbows And watching stars die. It’s ok; it’s always ok; or is that fine? —The fine line. I don’t need a thing. Why am I here again? Not sure it was printed in the letter. Dying to be free Maybe that’s the missing line. A conclusion Because I should have said something sooner, right?
I tried to cut it out—to stop the rapids from rushing the empty. A tsunami simmered beneath tiny ripples, I said, ‘Let’s stop’, and goodbyes in other words. Because saying it caught like barbed wire in my soft throat, “I feel for you”. I knew you felt nothing. Goodbyes stuttered at the ends of my thumbs because I felt what I considered long dead…. Until we kissed…I was a dead thing, perhaps a mirror of you. Tattered fragments scattered across the basin, worn and ground, fine and sharp after too many storms, too much friction, too much pain, fleshless broken bones—just sand. Then my heart woke, and my soul burst in Aurora—electromagnetic, chemical awakening— I was powerless. But I was just a child with her imaginary friend making sandcastles. I have a habit of loving those that can’t love me back—dead things too shattered to fly. I thought I was one of them….Then we kissed. I tried to say goodbyes in too many other words when I realised what you were between the lines, when the flowers I laid upon you withered and your pretence slipped. You were bored and I was a fidget toy within your reach. The sweetness masking the bitter fast dissolved. I tried to accept the end of your mornings and silence of nights, then you’d say, ‘Let’s do’ but we never did—you’d bail because of some unforeseen that I foresaw every time I said with hope, “yes”. I accepted your literal words to my catastrophe. Now I’m hurt by the inevitable absence—the ghost I knew you’d become but hoped you wouldn’t. I foresaw it through the hope I was encouraged to dress in. You never really existed.
Clan Witch & Word Refinery 