S[elf]-l{oath}[in]g

The moments I most hate about life

are those moments we are faced with our

s-

elves.

And I find myself swearing to God, how

I do, that

I do love myself, so very much: and yet

in talks with the person who

most loves me

back,

I find no evi-

dense of anything love-

able in my

being: nothing at all re-

mains in the drug I’ve injected

and jerked into this person I

tried, and attempted

in Dublin to make better than

good, and highed

with the fives I slapped into

my hands –

and clasping outstretched

embraces and hugs

and bodies and

faces and

lips gently touched –

the thoughts of grand life;

of that grander life,

I mean.

 

And now all I see is an elfin

oath: a tiny spark of

magick which lights a kinda road;

a road

that may take me away

from this hell.

But how and

when,

and who can I tell?

Where on earth will I find

the ending to a story which

simply never

can I

fell?

Leave a reply:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s