Nineteen Ninety-Never

I am broken down and bleeding, bereft of all positive thinking
My leg wobbles and my eye twitches uncontrollably
I haven’t had enough sleep in weeks
I’m tired but I don’t want to sleep, don’t want to waste the waking hours where I can write about my dark moods
I feel uncomfortable in my skin and I know that no amount of tailoring will fix it
My needle poised and ready nonetheless
I can’t do what I want because I don’t know what to do
I’ve had a taste of so many things yet nothing lingers sweet, just rotting uncooked hamburger meat-pulp that sticks between my teeth and gives me bad breath
I want to cry
I want to give in
I see no point in doing either as the outcome will no doubt negate the meaning
I’m tired of pissing people off
I’m tired of haunting the dusty halls of my psyche
My umbilical scar is showing again and it’s warted and bruising, giving off a yellowish discharge and an odor that halts my senses
I love my life
I’m dreaming
I want my baby
I want her tall and clean, disinfected and shaven
My shaven raven
Delight deluxe and fortitude
I am nothing if not unbound so I am nothing
I am a well
I am a rock
I break the sound barrier and I give off a noxious gas that causes people to find their own jokes funny
I have nothing to say

Nineteen Ninety-Never

Peter Horsman

Bridgewater, Australia

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“it” says it all

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