Shame is the lie someone told you about yourself. – Anaïs Nin

Think of all the poems, all the songs, all the prose

That say ‘help me! I am diseased by you, and your attributes!’

A woman stood outside your home wearing only underwear (not her own)

And saw you

Blinkers on as usual.

Always the same, baby; cold war.

Coincidences, as usual.

Premonition, intuition

meaninglessness and less and less.

It might have snowed. A bum might have frozen.

There’s too much watching going on all around.

You are dissected constantly, as you may be aware.

You think you are an invisible voyeur.

But she can’t wait for you to click on her again.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s