Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: Birthday

legs break beneath a body heavier than it was before

my head is dead in this universe alight
skin numb and thudding beneath the plastic sheet of sound
and through the vacuum of the downward spiral of my neck I bury
my poison ivy in places my A levels told me about
bile and electricals and something nervous something
thud thud from the oaken internal chest is there anyone out there

scenes from when I don’t often think
flicker on the projector that hasn’t been updated
twenty tiny baby nothing years
I can’t even see the screen from here

lessons and literature scaling the perimeter from
birth to now it’s in my blood alongside the rest
this vicious cocktail that fizzes and fills
stringy veins and scattered brains
a quiet assault
a mild-mannered violation
distilled bottled imported consumed rejected
with love from Poland

down down pavement
hence from here thou art banished I am outnumbered
leave just leave this isn’t the time

put the thing in the thing I’m sorry again and again
lights colours emotions and alphabets merge into dregs
and the bottom of my stomach is the bottom of my bin
and I’m sorry again you’ve got to clean up my mess

gone enough to think the worst
too gone to say it
you say it’s okay
we are absurd

Sunday, what a Sunday.
Sunday is a terrible time to be alive.


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May 2022
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