Tuesday, 2 January 2018

Denial

You don't need to read a Murakami story 
to judge if women make good drivers,
revive me from my passivity 
and I'll tell you the answer

Tell me, what'll make you listen?
I have called forth the hurricane inside
and cried "Poseidon!"
to save all the plasma and red blood cells

drop by and say hi, protector of seafarers

Give them a hand to stay afloat 
in this ocean of flesh and bones,
the heat is rising, the ice melting, pick up a scale 
and measure the rhythm of my palpitation

Sample it and replay, until
you find the two right notes and a power chord,
make me a song, cry me a river, break me again 
and put it on repeat 

I had already mastered the art of losing, and faster
now I'm learning how to write it like a disaster

while I steam my lungs clean and make them pure
to consume Afghani hashish re-mixed 
in the streets of Delhi
(we take their drugs while they take our wheat)

every relationship is a relationship of exchange
but I think I'm done, 
I don't need your cure 
anymore.   

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