02 February 2006

The Bastards had it Coming ( final version )

I've just been cleaning up the poem before I enter it in my uni writing competetion. I've added some lines, condensed some stuff, and generally fiddled it tight.

The Bastards had it Coming
By Adam Cheshire
( final revision: 02/02/06 )

this hall of mirrors reflects only lies like ozone;
the soul shrinks smaller but the eyes get bigger.
You don't wait in turn
at the hypagonic feed tube
but claw
and bite
to suckle the new dreams recycled from old
want turned into need.
Some time I can taste it
like MSG, the back of my throat
gag reflex kicks like a mule
other time
I don't notice
till it's already inside me
stuff desperate fingers down past the tongue and vomit till empty and cold
it gets under my nails
some time
like grit throwing down roots under the skin scrub raw
trying to get it out but now my fingers
are bloody and useless can't even
press these buttons;
but I can hurl this brick.

I still watch the mirrors some time,
but I can't do it for long
watch the cracks get painted over and over
just sink like a stone into this settee slowly
erode in this hypnotic stream until
I'm only dust;
pull cobwebs from mine eyes.

I lost the horizon;
last time I looked was too long
now all I have are these walls to bang my head against;
the wallpaper fell off long before I was born.

It used to be there, The horizon,
a warm glow
like a promise, a blanket
to make me
laugh and cry, fear and wonder
but never, ever comprehend
until now,
in these binds
tongue hanging out
eyes cracked and red;
Now I just see.