I’m obsessing,
Progressing
Thoughts on paper
And pen scratched through ink
As I sit, as I type
Think Think
How can I fix this
Cure the ails and the woes
When theres women living in nothing more than just their clothes
Im fury
I am rage
As I rant upon this page
That its clockwork
Its cycle
That still doesn’t change
That its Corston
That its Gauke
Another fucking report
But the names and the longing
Belonging
Is an afterthought
That theres a woman pleading
Needing
More
Something
Someone
Silence met
With nothing
And shes trying
Shes crying
Sighing
Screaming
More
She cant take it,
So its life now
Like this
The dirt on the floor
Step on me
Over me
Thank you sir
I’ll take that
Deserve that
I’ll hold that door
Ones open for you
For him
For her
But not me sir
Not me sir
The perpetrator
The deviant
The defiant
The silent
The night
The fear
The stigma
The fight.
Don’t hold it for me
Close it nice and tight
Remind me of my place please
Alone and out of sight
Hotel rooms
Hostels
Tents
Cracked ceilings
Feelings
Unsafe
Unsure
Like a past life
Prisoner
Or whore
I’ve seen these walls before.
They shape me
They cage me
They tell me who I am
They tell me what I’m here for
And my worth
Less.
Less.
Less.
Deprivation
Suffocation
Foundations of sand and chalk
With the whip crack
Slap across my back
Telling me to walk
Talk
Thank
Beg
Borrow
But not steal
Not even for a meal
Kids go hungry
Lights go out
But I don’t make a sound
I don’t breathe
I don’t shout
Patient so patient
In the darkness damp
Waiting for your grace
Gracious
Enter now
List
Listing, name, number, repent
I thought my conviction was spent
But not in the pages where you log the rent
It’s bent
System broken
Scream not spoken
Report. Gauke Corston More.
Labour. Saviour.
Not what I voted for.
Reform?
Me? Or farage and hate bait nation?
Scum scum
Shit shoe
I’ll never be more than that to you.
Labour labour saviour saviour
Can I have just a week more?
Sleeping bags on the floor.
I’ll take it
Until I make it
A safe space
A home.
No comments:
Post a Comment