Aversion Therapy

These are the things that keep me up at night,

all stitched together.

 

I will say these words twice daily,

gently,

and watch them lose their power

or break me.

I will give thanks for the pain,

that will melt or mould me.

I will say these words twice daily...

 

-high dose

-we need to talk

-moist

-cunt

-inquest

-I’m sorry.

 

Words like ‘remand’ and

the deep crack

of a root when

I feel thin,

a cack-handed camouflage of

curtain pole hidden in plain sight.

 

Words like my dad’s Will

in single-finger type

and when I realised that I’d forgotten

everything he taught me about engines.

 

Or the bullet points I took

when I lost a baby in an A-level lesson

and just stared at the wall while

they carried on and I

couldn’t give a shit

just another sharp scratch and

trauma in bad grammar.

 

I guess this is the way of it now

when we’re top to toe in yesterday’s cold words

 

 

in colder rooms

in the reassuring tones.

 

Our lives are marked in twos and threes

I love you

I will

I do

we’ve lost it (two times)

it’s a boy (three times)

it is cancer.

 

I didn’t even feel the tip of the blade

and now it’s up to its hilt and I’m some

hung Pisschrist.

Anything you need?

Any questions?

I should have thousands

strewn mast

canted leeward

killing time as it’s killing us

in this big cold universe where the scrape of a

fork is the loneliest sound.

 

Or is it god and all his dripping guilt,

his spirit fuelled by need and

aimless attention so

even a kicking’s a cuddle?

 

In all the empty bottle of a mind 

I think one day I shall mute myself

to words

to the loudness of it all.

 

The splendour hurts too much,

you and I

string and ivory, so

 

I will say these words twice daily,

gently,

and watch them lose their power

or break me.

I will give thanks for the pain,

that will melt or mould me.

I will say these words twice daily...