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Not even when sitting on the doctors floor - a drizzly grey of stiffening heat pins me to my present

a drizzly grey of stiffening heat pins me to my present

I wake up waiting for my next sleep

thinking of trivialities like, “what to do”


dress, wash, eat, go


where is my memory dress, wash, eat, go

I feed my fear with guilt and my guilt with torment

thought myself tough! full of vitality!

putting on the veneer but not my clothes


how is it with the cleaning, did I clean

I don’t remember should I clean now?


It is time to go

I have dressed washed, thought about food and eaten agony

so many loves have gone and died now

but I don’t look back

not even when sitting on the doctors floor

consumed by exhaustive promises of who I am


dread in my eyes as I shake

the degrees of burn aching my chest

the two walls the corner my hole to hide

is it chemistry or psychology

a slower way to being dead

I am not me, but who I am

a buzz like a bee in my brain,

the energy of a snail.



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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