Tuesday, 12 January 2010


How clean do I have to come for this dirt not to stick?
Which tailor can I visit to mend this shirt to fit?
Can’t breathe but I let you smoke and now I’m burning
To Cinders
Compress and purify the Crystal
Much more than indiscretion
Shallow flippant denial
Skipping back into the future
Guilt, Frustration, Self loathing
And conflagrate at the push of a button
a bijou apartment or the corner by the underground
Self satisfaction strikes another wound
Into the flesh of good nature
Before the fatal chokehold
And it’s so cold so London, this distance between us
For days at a time I can play at being a real person
At knowing how to draw all the right lines and stay between them
Then I miss a beat, skip a step
And the chalk blurs
Its’ easy to build a complex critique
Hardest to present simple truths
Acknowledge the history we share
Easy to board up or glaze over and fall back to describing society
But what’s that if not you and I?
What are politics but how we choose to govern these bodies
How we give order to the impulse
Shape to the formless?
I’ve been advocating too many causes
And not thinking about the effects
I’ve been filling all my pauses
Waiting for you to interject
And when you interject
I feel how my desire consumed my self respect
Now this realisation is all that I have left
And I’m drawing myself to my feet preparing for the next step
And after that the next and the next
Until this beat stops pounding in my chest
I could’ve been better
I won’t be worse
I can’t give you your dignity back
But I can try and help you build it
I won’t be that cliché song lyric
And fuck you over again
Or myself

No comments: