Friday, 14 April 2017

in-hollow-out, 14/April/17

he sits there staring...... it's unnerving but not surprising..... we don't talk...... he can't walk away any more than I can...... both seemingly exactly where we both should be in the here and now...... contentment's a myth unless you're really good at fooling yourself........ he's no fool though...... the reddened eyes, swollen bags, lines surrendering to gravity's inevitability..... even shells are still tangible even when there's nothing inside............ the Easter egg all lush, inviting chocolate on the outside cracked open reveals just hollow cavity, as barren as the eggs you'll be frying for your breakfast......... I never see him eat and yet he's constantly gnawing.......  the only touch, other, apart..... he's only what he isn't, a total lack......... at times seems wholly insubstantial, and yet............ at time indelible, and yet........ he nags without uttering a single word....... the only sound is one imagined.......... everything and everyone to his shadowed eyes an absurdity, a comedy of errors, mistranslations clothed in unpronounceable names....... he's out of time, removed, is bruises stay bruised, black and blue..... a disproportionate affliction.......

© robert greig

1 comment:

Martin Kloess said...

Wonderfully told imagination flow