By | 4 May 2016

I did it like you said I would
in terms of how we thought
things would go accord-
ingly. And yes there’s blood
in family, love and sport
or making from our words

a tight, confused assembly
of musical notation, line
and the kind of detail hurt
thrives on when we occupy
the dark side of what’s mine
what’s yours. Therapy as art.

Art as fuck it, that’ll do.
We like it said the way we’ve
seen the matter off to bed
but sleep comes hard, and so
we lie beneath a wall of waves
that break inside our heads.

What was I saying, and why?
Have we made it here to take
measure of each other’s hands?
The day arrives, the red sky
washes in to make amends
for its downfall or atrophy.

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