A Hug

My tongue is stuck to the top of my mouth
Last night, I dreamed of night café’s
Served by ghosts, I took coffee
Down a throat, clogged
With words and tears like
Some old-house drain.
I could write the script
At this point, I think
Guzzling coffee, hoping the caffeine
Will kick my adrenaline up
My anxiety into hyperdrive
My movements edgy, so
I become her again. Because it felt
good, to be unhealthy, sometimes.
Because if I kicked my body into
over-drive, I could outrun the pain –
For a while.
I could write the script on how
difficult I am
If only people knew how
predictable their words can be
She’s flaked
She’s lazy
I don’t feel like a priority

Meanwhile, pain is whizzing through
my veins
Some sick sadistic twist of reality’s
sobriety

I just needed a hug,
last night.



If any of you have been readers of this blog, or if you’ re new, and perusing the archives, you’ll notice that I don’ t explain my poetry often.

To some extent, art or poetry shouldn’t be explained – it’s there to be felt.

On the off chance that this is read by someone like me, who has a rare condition which causes pain, I just want you to know that you’re not alone.

Friends and writing helps, being honest helps, making yourself over others a priority – helps. If you like, feel free to write your own poem, with your name, in the comments.

Your poetry doesn’t have to be fair, or right, or clean – but it has to be honest.

Let me know what it’ s like for you right now – I want to hear it.

Sometimes, knowing someone cares enough to witness the pain is enough to get you ready for the day. Other times, it’ s something that can help us breathe a little easier through dark nights that don’ t seem to have an end.

I’m wishing you all a wonderful weekend, from my dark corner of my blustery Atlantic island (it’ s not mine really, by chance I was born here and have accepted the fate of ever-encroaching rain, and torrents of icy wind…)

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