Paper Proof

Paper Proof (4th April, 2011)

Raw pain like an itch I can’t reach,
so close, on the inside;
it’s where I breathe, deep; it’s
where my heart beats.

These words
are not for your ears
so I’ll write them down, as
a reminder.

There’s a confession I must
leave unspoken;
I’ll take a still-shot of the sky at sunset,
a deletion in place
of something beautiful,
and swallow them.

Today,
any exchange
must be a good one.

Hold my gut, hurts like a stitch;
touch your toes, heaven
knows where the Old Wives
get them. But it grows,
angry weed, threatens
to choke me.

Play the record that used to calm:
Parsley, Sage… I cook and laugh;
this is an echo of the past.
Life: sand in an hourglass
running fast.

Eat my defeat with silver spoons;
my heart beats, fast as the
music blooms. Honey,
tea, water, wine; anything
to wash down truth,
flavour lies I substitute.

These words
are not sounds
I can produce.

Here’s the paper proof.