Carry On
It’s like at the flick of a switch a ghost appears,
stitches my eyelids together
and all brightness I ever saw
is just distorted memory.
Soon no-one will remember me
as I hide behind locked doors
unable to get up off the floor,
knowing I’m sliding
yet braced to slide some more.
Loved ones cross my mind
but today they don’t love me.
That’s all I see,
the mocking figure of imagination
sharpening the edges of words
serrating deeds, berating me-
unworthy of their time or love
or the air I breathe.
Alone as I am meant to be.
I want to talk and yet need solitude,
don’t need my thoughts denuded.
Not right now.
I don’t belong. I know I’m wrong
but equally I still believe
and feel I’m not strong enough
to hold my tongue.
Until I can rediscover light
you’re better off without me in your life.
Clive Oseman is a Birmingham born, Swindon based poet, widely published in Japanese short-form journals and now enjoying the Spoken word scene. He is on twitter @Clive_Oseman