Zoe Catherine Kendall, artist, writer and human...

Friday, 13 August 2010

Last night i vomited you up

I feel sick. I wanted to get over you so I slept with someone else, and now I feel sick.

Except now I don’t feel sick. Last night I vomited you up, last night and the night before. Now I feel refreshed, I have cleared the dead weight in my throat, I have transcended it. You have passed through me like a storm; you have died down now that we are no more.

We are no more; we are travellers in alternate universes. The sky tonight is very black, I think of your heart when I look at it. My heart is open like an accessible book, there is much to read between the lines, but I am here to help, I will narrate.

You are a ghost, an impression at most. You hair was dirty blond; your head was dirty too. I am an existent, existing in this time frame, present in the current mud, wearing boots, stepping in.

There are fools around these wilder woods, I am the trap that snares them in. There are no men, new man and wolves to be seen. We are dancing around the fire, fooling about like nobody’s children, we are warriors of various means, thieves and liars and lovers between. This is us, this is the dream, thankfully shedding the robe of what has been.

Wry fully wondering, silently wandering, we are the waste land and we are the steam. You are the fuel of the fires un keen, I am the richer for leaving you unseen.

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