clack clack stamp stamp
all i want right now
right now
is a typewriter
so i can cut my words in a new way
clap them down
cut out the image
so that i might touch
the hurt
and it should not bleed
at least
not too much
i could punch angry
as a child
yelling into a ground
where soft spoken words
could maybe calm me
that is
in some other world
“this shell is a problem”
i can hear them say
“what happened to her”
only they do not know
do not care
anyway
and what happens next is anybody’s guess
it could get better
or i could be
chained again
to the
bed
by my own
arms
and by no-one’s admission
and nobody would
bat an eyelid
i would go like the
stray cat
slink from their mind’s
eye
or like a hopeless whisper
reaching too hard
to a man a mile away
(more)
you and I both know it
…..
as it is I have
a notebook
and i carve so hard down
pen stab
wishing
it was that skin
mine or his or theirs
either way
wouldn’t matter
wouldn’t change
a sorry thing.
