The view from the balcony.

Can’t breathe
Without dreading villification
Stomach haunted
With imminent panic.

Thinking about the past I gracefully exited
Literally made me
Throw up.
Abjection over a balcony.
Blood poisoned against others
And innocence dismayed.

Going everywhere and nowhere
By being stuck in all directions
Makes circles dizzy.

Empty consolation, wine glasses emptied,
Offered from other people’s cosy minds.

How to stop racing constantly
To catch up with myself
And take the lead?

There’s never a good time to trust
Which side you’re on
With fooled instincts.

I’m surrounded and hounded
Pounded
By my own metaphors.

Grappling, dejected, designed to fall
Resigned.

Tip a glass
And throw it over board

Killing thousands of brain cells
Willing legions of futures.


The night was unglamorous
But he stayed the whole time
And as I asphyxiate some literature
I read the colour of his eyes.

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5 thoughts on “The view from the balcony.

  1. That is rather profound. I think I know that feeling lol.

    But how can you asphyxiate literature? Can you suffocate literature or does the literature suffocate you?

    • Thank you, Jhglondon!

      Maybe a bit of both. Or perhaps I read literature, and asphyxiate the colour of his eyes, in that I see both in my mind’s eye all the time. Or perhaps I read something after this particular night which asphyxiated me.

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