Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Bad News

One morning
That call will swallow the world around you
A brother, a sister, a parent, a niece
One morning the bad news will be yours
One morning the bad news will be me

Quenching vices, bathroom excess
To lamplit pavement beaten senseless
Blood drying on the grey concrete
Your red breath atomised
The beauty of a burning butterfly
The bad news will be me

Everything must go
So come right back here
Heaven is living
In high def projection
In the cupboard under the stairs
I am living
An infection
Bred for you to bear
So cross me
The path burnt in your flesh
A spaghetti junction of scar tissue
With a Minotaur branding
A barcode cipher never issued
And when you scan
You get trapped in between
A choral tape looping incessantly
soundtracks this hurt
Lending occasional sense
In a hollow vessel

One evening
That presence will define the sphere around you
A secret, a lie, something revealed
One evening the bad news will be us
One evening the bad news will be whole

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