achelegy, 3rd October 2016

this ache, this ache, this deep down ache, this leaden ache that wraps around each muscle, fibre, feeding on the tendons taut, a parasite that can’t be brought to heel or made to leave me well alone when simple standing is an effort, walking on a shred of will that waxes, wanes then wanes then wanes colours merge into the sound of scraping paint, a knife that’s ran across the artists palette, long since dried of many lumps and layers, years of ceaseless painting in attempts to capture motion and emotion from a nothing staring back, this ache, this ache that makes me wait for when it might subside, weather seeps into my pores further food to feed this dull, consuming, ceaseless ache, this ache as though it’s always been there waiting patient til impatience got the better to become a slick to spread across each and every surface inside outside in to pin my limbs into the ground and bury me, bury me, smother me in apathy and whisper, whisper, whisper in my ear with every fear I’ve ever had and never thought and left for dead deep inside the deepest wood where feet have never walked and never will where underneath the litter-leaves a life become a corpse slowly rots with no one there to see, to watch, to maybe bury it for reasons unbeknown other than it’s always been that way, this ache, this ache, treading ruts, it starts and never seems to stop just like these seeping words…….


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