Monday, 30 March 2015

I Can't Keep it Down

I can’t keep it down.
For most it is instinctive – healthy even
That they take what they are given
Consume without sound.


They have learnt the art of quiet
Keeping one foot on the ground
Whilst the mind departs.


Whilst time
Thrashing against the mesh of my face
Hurts, half
Unravelled with my pen angle.
The rehearsal of marriage
For the achingly singular
I sit and watch blots and mucus and threads


And think – am I a participant
Or is this death?
Is this the difference between art
And the exhibition?
Feeling a physical outpouring
Over and over
Yet the meaning unknown
And the door in the mirror.