That ‘Puncture Wound’ no longer weeps…
but, it aches, like rack-broken bones
stretching past life regression-like
through the dawn of each new, cold morning
and out onwards into incalculable eternity.
The ‘Cracks’ of your soul are too deep to fill,
the ‘Hollow’ and ‘Hunger’ of your fractured heart
will never be sated by the tricks and lies
of ridiculous bedtime fairy stories.
Whilst the truth of common sense and reason
battering-ram your consciousness
into a bleak and stark acceptance.
‘Pairing’ did not halve your problems,
but doubled and made them worse.
Upon an unrequited ocean of emotional refugees
… you row alone,
… against the tide,
… with a broken compass.
Two thirds through your last bag of ‘Hope’
and with the teeth of your ‘Lost’ mind either gritted
or chattering at the moonless ‘Horror’ of it all
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