Sunday, 13 March 2016

To Forget

To Forget
(James WF Roberts)

He sings songs of old
silver tongue
and the elixir gold
he burns the truth
in heart that’s grown fragile
and now cold.
Random scribblings
tagging with a spray can
abandoned sub-way stations
as discarded fast food packages
dance in the air,
as the last train speeds off into
the oblivion of the concrete womb.
Will my mind be my liberation?
or my lonely heart my final tomb?
Smoky eyes
crystal meth tongue
and those heroin lies
and all those fool-proof
lines I swallowed time after time.
Rattling cans
shopping trolley
her life on display
for all who pass her way
Map of the world across
her face
scars on her wrist
ancient bruises
that seem to remain,
black, purple on her inner thighs.
The horrors of a locked bedroom door
when Daddy comes home drunk
mother screaming
battered, like a pile of clothes
littered across the floor.
She holds her breath
as the door knob turns
she trained herself
to go limp, to dull the ache
to escape the pain
every time it begins.
The syringe brings bliss
the fire, the blade, the pain
rejoices.  Across the river
not down the stream.
the euphoria delivers
what love, sex
and therapy—can’t.
Pure, un-adulterated—release. 
To Forget.

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