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