Did you know, that you can swallow pain?
Uncried on his shoulders, unhurled at her face and bored out your mind,
it will float aimlessly in your head.
It will bounce off the walls of your skull,
picking up debris, rubble of the past;
tunes, pictures, embarrassments,
vicious triumphs, ugly treasures.
Drinking these in you will conceive a ghost from your pain
-alive, real enough for the world,
looking for vengeance
and cast away only by
the shame of destruction.
Are you afraid of ghosts?
In that case, you can hide pain in the everyday;
between work and home,
with the piece of paper in the pocket of his coat…
Hide it long enough to forget they existed and
you’ll surely be cured into society.
If you don’t,
like the old man at the top of the road
speaking to the lamppost,
they will christen you mad.
Mad- the only respectable thing to be
in a ritually cowardly world.