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
here at Litteraturcentrum Kvu
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