denial
is a funny bird it
sits
there looking at you
squawking
and demanding
attention
and you ignore it
all
the while it's been feeding
on
you
so
many thoughts go by when
you've
stopped to dust off the tracks
left
by that oncoming bus you really
didn't
see but should have expected
you
having sat at the bus stop for
so
long
you
remember the little things
the
touches and glances the colours
and
rhythms of things as they were woven
in
and out of your life the very fabric
in
most cases of the person you discovered
you
were
the
truths you'd been given wrapped
like
gifts pearls before swine
rise
up to slap at you demanding an audience
when
all you want is to push them down
mould
them into something soft and infinitely
easier
to sleep on live with endure
all
the while knowing they were
lies
there
are many levels of hell and I expect
I'll
visit them all at one point or another right
now
I'm sitting in the doldrums the air
thick
as molasses or treacle
its
nauseating scent filling every dream I
might
have entertained once upon a time
when
Hero was a comic book figure
who
always won always got the girl and
always
lived forever
now
its gone twisted out of my grasp
like
the lifeline held out as the ship sank
yanked
away because
there
must be a beginning a middle
an
end to things the circle a cycle of pain
always
promised the dark hero that haunts
my
dreams hinting that just desserts come
in
double helpings when you least
expect
it
(c)
ArdentTly
061901