No mercy

You can walk away from it, once it's been said

it is possible to run from it.

we all hear it at least once and i heard it for

a second time today.

it is a cateract or a crime you can't escape

you are completely helpless lost in a pile

of thought and you cannot grab onto anything

to slow it all down and step off, onto solid ground

residential body-numbness sliding in waves across me

and down the length of my spine and arms, finger's tips.

a hole bore into my stomach and left there, a space

where the best piece of cake lay.

i'll fill that hole with what i like, and splay it out

for others to see. little horrid attraction by the side of

the road.

what does it matter, how we fill our holes? or what we

fill them with. we should fill holes indiscriminately,

unbiased, torrents of being, flooding all open holes in

existence. sneaky contest-winner, scratching up more points

than she's really won. huge genius of that action.

poor rest of us, while she's up there hanging from the lamp-shade

twisting and pulling, exhibiting her finest wares

shaking the cat-gland, spraying and memorising the room

her old familiar stink and wriggle, that unfamiliar pang in the voice

and break, somewhere in the throat

half-dressed animal in the sheets, oh familiar eyes and feet

all teeth and skin under nails,

death grip renewed. tectonic shift awakening the old moves

spraying and memorising the room