I Walk With The Spirits

I walk with the spirits
on nights like these -
and who are you?
who are you,
who are you to laugh
and say they will think me mad?

For I could be.

Walk with me,
follow me
follow me now
out of this place -
and I am leaving.

I am leaving -

and where should I go?
Where do I go to get away from myself?

I lie still and I do not move for days.

I do not pray.
I do not believe in God.
I do not read the bible -
but on nights like these when I walk with the spirits,
I pray.

death useless disgusting you like it you like it
you made me do it and your mum wants
you clean and tidy and untouched.
Do you know what she would do if she knew?

You would scream fire fire
fire would catch you
scream through the back it tips you over and you fall
you fall through the floor and you sink.

Oblivion.

And I must not move.
And I must not move.
Twitch.
No.
He will see me.
He can smell me I am an animal.
Come after me father.
Tell her and she will strangle me.
I will die or she will die.

I told her. I told you.
He died.
Dropped dead in the bathroom at 44.

What goes around comes right around...
Live by the sword, die by the sword...
Shall I continue?
I think you understand me.

Did you think you would be untouched?

I killed you. With words.

Your words.
You used your words on me.
Tissue paper, dissolving.

My words are bullets.

© Morney Wilson

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Wow! As one Wilson to another I'm impressed with your weaponry.

"My words are bullets" indeed. Raw and astutely grasping the shamanic core of poetry.

The more poets understand that, the more powerful their individual and collective efforts will be.

The poignance of the abuse accounting propels the poet "I" into Spirit World -- which just happens to be a more real take on the physical world too. Speed up time. We're all Ghosts in the Machine.

Strong work. I salute your fierce survivor's sense of purpose.