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Given that nothing

feel nothing

know nothing

Nothing but thoughts

As easy as one two three

Thoughts tell lies

tales misunderstood unintelligible

A spectacle unobserved in public conversation

The truth is (now) hidden how can there be feelings

feel nothing

am nothing

Nothing but churning gut

As honest as a toilet sitting

That tells everything…

expressing nothing but truth

inside outside

The truth is out as are all feelings

feel nothing,

sense nothing

nothing but tears

streaming too slow

wanting them to flow as a river

to fill a lake

to become a sea on the street

that can be walked into to drown all thoughts

feel nothing,

forget nothing

nothing but fire

it burns at a smolder

want it to roar and crackle bones

want it to consume skin

but there are only ashes smothered in hollows

feeding Incomprehensible gibberish

mastery of public polite

all spectacle unobserved while walking the streets

how can one feel - ashamed.



This poem was published in Golden Hour - Hora Dorada

you can buy it by send a message with your address to

colm@ciarnain.com it costs 12€ + postage

and on Amazon: Sweden - Spain - Germany - UK




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