‘The Sputterings of a Servant of Dust’

I am the skip of a disc,

a song stuttering and chirping

caught toe in carpet,

layer of ice on concrete,

wrapped ankles in lace

and hands holding wrists in place

and I am a mistake.

you hold me like I am complete.

I am a broken television,

crisp vision turned sour

and static burns the ledges

where I seep from,

when I sleep standing,

leave my corpse,

end up on the floor,

and begin anew

with the rise of the lights

and I am a mistake.

you hold me like that’s okay.

I can’t hold onto anything,

my fingers loosen

and my claws recede

and my hands swelter and pulse,

everyone leaves, eventually.

no amount of thick, black noise

escaping my tongue

could ever change that.

fate, god, nature and destiny –

intertwined in the way

that the world holds me,

and my struggle is fading.

you hold me

even though I don’t know

how to do the same.

12/23/18

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s