Wednesday 6 December 2017

HUNTING MYSELF TO SLEEP



used to be
there
was
the
simple glass lie
of
the
bottle by the bedside
                      i g    t
                    l     h  
to keep my corpse a
in the nights poor hours
where hope was hunted
like papas big game

then
time
instigated intervention
and
flipped me all about
with 
benevolent misdirection
and
a
revelatory hole card

and now theres love
a magic cat
and a drawer of tidy tranqs
to
put
my
wired tired
adrenalin dry 
meat stack 
d
 o
  w
   n

and i hunt myself
on
the
soupy edges
of
oblivions game

hoping for a quick clean kill

or the flutter 
in the fog
of a white flag 
of a surrender
without
any
terms

terms like one more piss

or
remembering
i
used
to
smoke




Image result for classic hunting rifle

from offthegridnews.com

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