Saturday 28 March 1998

a cast-off wasted monument

1998


I finally realised that i
       was wasting all my time
beseeching and emploring you
       to understand my mind
for you don't care you've had your fun
       and i'm a consequence
and though my life has been destroyed
       i have no sound defence
for you have made of me a lamb
       a sacrificial fool
a cast-off wasted monument
       to men who are but tools
for each and every wanton slut
       who's fickle short-term lust
has made of us a piece of meat
       and turned our hearts to dust


Dry Well

1998


i look up from my deep pit of depression
and see the brightness of the world
inviting but unreachable

In the darkness of my despair
i shake with the cold of my loneliness

a scream for help echoes up the walls of my pain
but disappears like a puff of smoke
into the uncaring brightness above

i am not so foolish as to expect a savior
i have examined my suffering walls well
i know every flaw and possible hold

i have tried many times to make my way out
but always i fall back
to my harsh rocks of solitude
where only an eternity of crying
offers hope of escape


I woke with you

1998


I lay dozing in my tiny hotel room
slowly awakening with you behind
clutching me asleep.
At peace and happy i reached to touch the hand on my chest
then i awoke, for you were not there.
I sat for a while, lost, alone
the urge to be with people took me
and i fled my lonely room
taking refuge at a burger king table.
I ate, drank, smoked
and looked at the women
then the tears came and I fled again
back to my empty room
and my pen.



where now is my fire?

1998


where now is my fire?
all that seems left is a husk, blackened, twisted
my words clipped, stilted, boring
my thoughts, even of you, tired
i long for the power of passion
that thrusts my whole being to the peak of its ability
but all i have is this limited intellect
crushingly boring



sometimes i wake

1998


sometimes i wake so sure you called my name
then later, lucid
acceptence and denial struggle out a truce
of maybe's

again i hear your words and see your face
again i feel our pain
i miss your lovely words
like soft rain upon my back
the constant simple praise
that calmed my tortured soul

i'll pretend that it is so