Bulb hangs from ceiling, cars swish in the puddles passing by the house. Bulb thin shadow then wide, dull light sits on the bed from whatever sun we have left now, bottom sheet due a change, there’s no one other than me that lays so it’s ok.
I watched this video on Facebook about meditation by Russell Brand. I remember laughing at it with you next to me and saying he should have stuck to his job as a comedian.
Bulb, off. Bulb swirly pattern at the end no shade around it, it’s bare cord just seems to have the bulb fitted in tightly at the end.
Bulb, wait I can’t see it, your body is on top of me.
Move out of the way so I can see. Eyes mimic nose points, body parts we take for granted we have to look at these parts of people everyday.
Move out of the way I’m trying to look at the bulb.
Bulb white, dusty cobwebs, flashbacks like holograms. Your body is on top of me. What do you want now for goodness sake I am trying to focus.
Bulb holes in the bottom then scope up inside it. I’m paranoid I know I hear what your saying but what if that’s just a voice in my head, what if your just in my imagination.
Your body thrust me up and down I stare at the bulb it’s waiting it wants to be turned on.
I curl into a ball, small, safe, warm away from November rain.
Child you don’t need to be worried, because you was right.
All them days crying about losing people and being told it’s going to be ok. Told over and over that I never have to do anything that I don’t want to do, I can say ‘no’ if I want to.