1. |
Coma Wall
22:36
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what if the person you love
was not and never will be
good enough?
what if nobody will complete you
what if nobody will ever love you
as much as their own hand
as much as shopping
as much as sleeping in
they hold you and never feel warm
they don’t get the poetry you wrote
they laugh, but they might be faking it
do they love who you are, or what you are?
are you together because you want to be
or have to be?
they say: you shouldn’t be alone
yet you learnt to enjoy solitude
but that is something you are not allowed to like
so you cave in
you ask somebody to watch a movie with you
you watch it
you talk in the hope that you have similar interests
even if you agree on everything
they will never understand you
they just get used to you
you become a habit
so do they
like the endless perpetuation of the human race
more people do not make the world more complete
you both feel empty
so you fill yourselves with children
who are empty too
you can’t fill a hole with holes
they take your money
they give you something to boast about to childless strangers
unless they die
then you have to say they were everything
and that you are nothing without them
but you are nothing, even with them
both of you are
nothing is ever good enough
especially not you
* * *
I tried laughing the other day
ended up coughing, hold the applause
push them around
that migrant janitor
that grinning Mohammed
breathe in recycled air
in a plastic box lit
like eternal midday
a confirmed miracle
bruised and purpled
swollen like a bee sting
we ran out of zip-lock bags
but we always had more bodies
so we built more walls
to keep out the poor
a mother screamed
as her son was scraped along the floor
an obese idiot laughed
bloated and asymmetrical
they’ll take you to the morgue with helicopters
to the comedy hospital
with elephant tranquillisers
and surplus chromosomes
I saw you and laughed
then choked
the great toilet-mother
now an obscene shadow
intrusive like a noise
you cannot block out
rancid youthful succour
for a placid death
larynx clogged with drool
that real grinning winner
in a real smart suit
paediatric gynaecologist
professional as hell
looking good in that suit
no matter how hard
you shut your eyes
I’ll always see that image
in a titillating light
even if you censor it
it’s still negatively there
suture those peepers
impetuous priest
anorexic arms
bulimic teeth
be less than nothing
be less than me
in the year of Our Lord
witness the aborted birth of Being
flushed down the toilet
nobody ever noticed
that it was god who was
flushed down the great
underground urethra
into the saline womb
of the sea
* * *
like a butterfly tangled in a web
like a bear being drained of bile in his cage
like a dog being choked by her master’s chain
like the neighbour’s cat being drowned in a lake
like a nameless corpse being washed up on the shore
like too many similes and too many metaphors
like a real grinning winner
like a pregnancy scare
like pigs fed to pigs fed to pigs fed to pigs
like being injected with air
like all those stuffed ponies your little sister kept
like falling asleep on your child’s deathbed
like committing suicide by becoming a concept
like carving a god-shaped hole in the middle of your chest
like a planned extinction of me and me alone
like finding bones on the shelves of your family home
like a total blackout on the will to power
like all your teeth falling out in the shower
* * *
nothing will ever spare you from the void
except the void itself
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Uboa Australia
Solo experimental music/noise project formed in 2010. ⚧ ☭ contact: uboatheflesh (at) gmail (dot) com
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