That Other Place

I hear “Stop.”

I hear “Push it.”

I hear “Go.”

I see washed out images

of hands and faces,

scraps of something

I have done;

somewhere I have yet to be.


I feel motion,

coupled with cold,

coupled with moisture.

Fingers on wrist skin,

gentle and soft.

Nothing revealing,

mystery stranger;

stranger than I have ever been.


I don’t see eyes

and it’s hard to make out

the details.

I know you’re mad.

I know you want to fuck me.

Running away

from nameless pursuers.

Coal-grey sky,

reveals nothing I’m after.

No sense of direction,


or anything I used to hold on to.



have they come

to torment me

before the time?


to the beginning of this long lie.

Telling it all again

is boring and tired.

Scraping bottom, now,

almost back to shore again.









Veins pump blood.

I’m waking up from this.

I’m waking up from this.

I’ve had enough of this.




Is this the world,

or is this the dream, again?

One dimension down,

or just to the left again?

You were there,

but here you are.

I saw you,

but here you are.

There is no dawn

in the other place,

so I’ll just sit here and wait

to see if it is today.


HG – 2018

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