grace

industrial abandon

missing my trips to the city

and how

the abandoned cokeworks

rotting away

by the train tracks

sent my thoughts

to that place

where things were so different

a secret world

I want to write about

immersed

in an industrial

wastelandscape

how can I capture this imagined

space

I don’t have those skills

or patience

scrolling in my bed

past my headache

reading about runner’s face

and Nick Cave

and grief

and grace

 

Photo by Darla Hueske on Unsplash 

past trauma

put lips to old pain

feel it flutter and still

poison drawn, paused

 

these untidy

memories and broken bits of games

horror of untethered high-wires

 

and never good enough

lifetime’s untruths, dissembling

nervous-held handbag

 

run tongue over protrusions

puffed proud tissue

give it wine, buy clothes

 

in the body aches

pleasurepunish chafes

adorned, adored

 

addictions rise from secret spots

manacles like friends

again, again, again

 

strip away snailsmooth streaks

knife scars, sear words

seal                    it up

momentary grace

 

 

It’s been more than a month since my last post, argh! I’ve been working 100% and the time just slips by. It’s a rather doomy poem to return with. Inspired by an excellent podcast featuring Russell Brand and Gabor Mate on addiction and past trauma. Short version here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQwP0XRBjq4 Long version (worth it!) here:  https://www.russellbrand.com/podcast/053-dr-gabor-mate-damaged-leaders-rule-addicted-world/ 

Photo: Ivan Bandura on Unsplash  https://unsplash.com/@unstable_affliction