all of them do
first you are hurt
then it becomes routine
you’ve come to expect it
that you don’t even bother
to find out fully
what it is all about
you accept it
this is how they live
this is their entertainment
talking shit about you
a diversion they take
from time to time
that thrills them
because they are bad
and you are not
and they know that
and feel sad
and you tell yourself
for no reason
you’re being had
but laugh it off
there’s no point
getting mad.
the meaninglessness of each word
the creating and the collapsing
the cries of the brain
burning to ashes
the incomprehensibility
of everyone
the human as animal
the teeth as fangs
phrases as illnesses
life as bother
truth beaten to a pulp
people eaten as bulbs
arrival of the throat
cutting pages up
setting fire
to everything
in sight.
leaping
startling you
with its jump
and your life
spills over
and you get busy
gathering it
O this is such
a bother
you say to yourself
walking this
restless universe
picking up
broken pieces
of yourself
and you are tired
of this torturous
existence
you are panting
and your mind
is whirling
full of dark images
and you say
enough is enough
death is better.
in the mind
that disturbs you
that makes
your heart heavy
and breaks your body
life is a whip lashing you
and rain falls and mixes
with your tears
you have been torn
out of yourself
and misery sits
on your head
like a cap
and you can feel
your brain melting
and you explode
in the heat
and pieces
of your flesh
are flying about
as finally you’re
dead.
Dominic Alapat 