12.5.12 - "The Morning After"
What's real disappears forever,
never again to touch, to feel,
to pet the tangible tabby,
once here, breathing, now gone.
Nothing can replace the feeling,
the pain, the knot in my stomach,
to watch his difficult breathing
cease, the final kick in the gut.
She woke up, went to the toilet,
came back to bed, then I woke up,
opened the window, then closed it,
poured myself a glass of water.
Went to the toilet, took a piss,
too hot, window open, too cold,
I can't sleep, sinuses blocked,
I cried too much last night, dead cat.
Her 4.48 psychosis
deep in my mind, a memory,
Sarah Kane hung herself, her mind
stops, the thoughts cease, breathing ends.
Everything is so simple in life,
except the emptiness, the void,
the absence to fill, but with what,
with drink, with drugs, with pain killers.
With a new cat comes a new set
of problems for the other three,
no matter what, the dynamic
shifts, for the survivors of death.
My stomach gurgles, not hungry,
tired, want to sleep, to remember
the real is too painful for me,
I was not born to write in verse.
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