Burnt

My legs are wobbly jellied eels

Bones deformed yet heavy-leaded anchors

Like when I’m sick from flu, sweating,

Reaking sweet cough syrup and

Rolling around in blankets. Oh,

I’m a pig stuffed at Christmas

And I can hear me squealing.

Stuck holding a candle

Even when it’s burnt my hands

Even when the light has gone.

There’s this scratched record

Spinning round and around, faster?

Not going faster,

Just, going.

Doesn’t fit my head so

Scuffs the inside cavity of the skull

And I can hear it screeching.

Stuck holding a candle

Even when it’s burnt my hands

Even when the light has gone.

I need to grab the skin under my legs to

Pick them up, to move them forward

A sad robot ant with no self-propulsion

So she has gone to you and I am left here

Let me be wasted.

I hear you breath in my chest

 

Stuck holding a candle

Even when it’s burnt my hands

Even when the light has gone.

Sleep has left me hollowed eye sockets

Dreams shattered are dangerous sharp shards to

Penetrate my awakening with their cold rememberings

And I do not fit this skin

So it’s baggy, dry and […]

Never mind, I’ll sleep tomorrow

For I can hear you calling.

Stuck holding a candle

Even when it’s burnt my hands

Even when the light has gone.

Cracked lips part as a river path waiting for the floor waters to

Come crashing down the mountainside to fall.

We are deserted and the sand-dunes shapes

Become missing parts to haunt me

As your formed oasis.

I hear you in the wind.

Stuck holding a candle

Even when it’s burnt my hands

Even when the light has gone.