“… my n[u] sw[oo]s[h] …”

I am ir[asc]ible as a question

and im[pet]{u}ous as a touch

and impat[i]ent as one

and im[puls]iv[e] as the beat of a heart.

 

I am sn[app]y as electronics

and s[harp]ish as my Dublin beloved

and sn[eak]-

i[sh] as a man who burrows quiet and deep;

 

and s[ni]de-

like when the time approaches,

on too m[any]

occasi[on]s [or off]

 

I can all too e[as]ily

recall [the idiotic twat I’ve been],

and so that’s why I’m will[in]g

(though not en[tire]ly

 

happy [nor altogether bright-eyed])

to [ad]mit [as public message]

how [m]{y}

d[own]{fall}

 

has been occasi[one]d [and far more

than one] by such a

mad

melodra[ma] of learning so tough.

 

And whilst my

te[mp]er be[comes] [self-interested]

to the table of my damnation, and so[me]{times}

 

distempered

 

out of real ill,

and stupidly foolish

reasons to be [sill{y}],

and even when

 

all the above’s quite rightly

given you plenty of bloody

justifications which – challenging the crimes

I have cruelly engineered –

lead you to shut me out so weird

 

as clearly you have done,

without wronging me one little tad

nor goddamn itty bit,

even so

I have never been able to quite close down

the good sneaking feeling

 

that if given

some chance, the being together we spent

on two days

 

might multiply forthwith

like the haze of summer

 

craze:

 

the love of two people, strangely attached –

 

and yet perfectly

suited to their ever so curious chronology;

that very well

timed and so handsomely rhymed …!

 

 

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