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Monday, 4 November 2013

Weir Thoughts












It began with a slow freezing
My emotions frostbitten 
into unfeeling.

Robots have it easy
doing but not knowing.
Repetition till extinction

I, on the other hand
stopped on the 1st of August 2006
pronounced dead by my wife
who could not smell the decay
until it was too late.

She propped me up
And doused me in compassion
Before hauling my body out of bed
Like some bad tempered ventriloquist.

 I remember seeing her mouth
Shouting obscenities.
So much spit in the words
Stupid! and shit!
Hot tears sliding off my chin

All I could think of
Was one question
searing my mind like
An SAS make or break
Interrogation.

Does some water never leave the weir?

© Simon Daniels


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