I

By Prudence Catley

 

I

 

 

 

am in pain

 

 

 

and please don’t think you can pretend you don’t hear me

 

 

 

 

 

or prefix my propositions with insisting I remain lost

and pass judgment when we think of

nothing at all of

and for

all

Eternity

 

just to make

a relativity statement

of just how much

‘pain’

we are in

 

let them see so that they know

 

that no one is alone and free from this shit
which they endure without plaintive comment
where they have rights to begrudgement and we have no right to relative comfort simply upon the basis that we are unworthy when we take this for granted
so when they say “I am in pain and please don’t think you can pretend you don’t hear me” then you’d better listen and take note because you have ears and you have mindfulness if you know where to look in between your outposts protecting your whore of a numskullery maid washing the grey matter between your cochlea

 

whilst

 

I have holes in my fingers
where the blood can escape

 

so

 

I suppose I shall die soon my heart palpitates bile won’t stop tract screaming for release

 

just let me drop out your ass & make something of myself like a rope you could hang yourself with

 

 

don’t pity or wrinkle your nose when you discover that I know I’m pathetic and have no control

providing a pain by which I can be weak

 

and amputate

 

digits & limbs

 

to fuck my throat

and make myself sick

as I am

and as sick as
I

am to those
I

want to find whom
I

could smother

a fist in the mouth

where they could chew on knuckles

and I could tear teeth

one by one to suckle and discard

 

cheap chewing gum

 

Cunt.

 

Leave the world to its own devices

 

 

 

it’s own principles that you adapt to destroy yourself

 

 

 

in that liberation,

inconsolable as it is,

that unmitigated freedom you’d miss

 

 

 

for moments, absolved of all responsibility

and regret

and self control no room for intellectualisation or reason

 

 

 

There is only the action

 

There is only the repetition

 

There is only

absorption

 

 

You cannot see me do it

and I cannot see myself else it cannot be

it is the dirty

little secret which must remain so to avoid being

wiped clean

 

purity

 

 

you hate but pine when you have no

options

and no means

 

sad relief

 

 

 

panic

 

 

 

that you cannot justify because in the long run

it is better for you

to lose your self-control

tenuous grip on the realities which are

so insignificant compared to anyone else

disregarding moot perception

 

in favour of gratification

 

self mutilation

 

which leads around again to palpitations and dilations similar to the conception

which made you smile in indulgence although you never knew what you’d conceived in me when you lay there on my chest but never gave and made my digits follow you to passion’s grave

 

 

the cold shook me

 

 

 

 

i’d never felt so

 

 

 

pale

 

 

I never made it

 

 

so she wretched on the floor

 

 

& spasmed periodically when there

 

 

was nothing

left

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

she passed out in the bathroom and smashed her head on the tiles

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

money had been taken to pay for her own taxi to hospital

 

(there was no ambulance)

 

 

:how longs a piece of string?

 

*

 

 

They said I was fine.

 

 

*

 

 

She passed out in the hospital bathroom and smashed her head on the tiles.

 

*

 

 

 

They said I was fine.

 

 

 

 

*

 

They left her screaming in a box for hours

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

someone came

 

 

eventually they probably thought I was pissed or on drugs

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

I was in pain but they said I was fine.

 

 

 

*

 

 

so much for welfare

 

 

 

there are many who have said so before

 

 

but I want to change the world

 

 

 

but then-

those whom want to do so
(for the better)

 

are seldom granted the opportunity

 

privilege does not equate righteousness nor always deserve derision (some are actually decent)

 

yet equilibrium is unattainable too many too many too many

too many too many too many

if it were spread thin (toast)

it may not be so bad

perhaps we could all be content

but then

 

where would we be?

 

who could commit

 

surplus to the unknown

 

who in their heart could bear it

 

where would we be

as a mal

functioning

Liber-h

ated

society

 

what of them-

do ‘they’ have no right to an equal life just because they are who they are lack of
strife and cannot aid the vision so what can
you do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can only do what will make some life better

your own

another

through just doing what is DECENT

 

the world

 

Just

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVERYTHING

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How can we be expected to do it all on our own?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-and of course we’ve bought into it because we have to

as part of a complex we have to

support for our self assurance so why don’t we-

 

 

-essentially (although I’d like to have faith) you’re selfish and like it this way but I
can only speak from my class perspective-

but they just try to make do I suppose-

 

 

it’s everywhere; even in our dreams through installation, we’re obviously
preconditioned to be passive in the face of indoctrination-

 

 

-so what have we allowed ourselves to become?

 

 

to progress so far-

 

to become

 

this.

 

*

 

 

 

 

Hush my darling.

All you can do is your best.

Even if it is not,

and will never be

enough.

 

 

*

 

 

It would be- It would be- It would be-

 

nice

 

if more figures sat for “the bigger picture” consecrated silhouettes in an ethereal fixture

 

 

(narrow minds)

 

 

one hears tales of inventors

great scientific instigators

of the past whom presumably didn’t care

whether or not they came last in the rat race not strictly true

even greats have/had vices

got into states

through betting

or drinking

too many women

or indeed

over thinking

 

I

 

cannot help

 

but feel it would be fine if we could accept the vices that supported

the intellects of the past

if only we could translate the latter to today

 

(commercial populism)

 

so we could concoct cures for

 

 

Leukaemia Uncle,

 

 

and the true elemental factors which place us-

 

 

 

but I fear we’re too preoccupied with the “realities”

as they seem

which prevent us acknowledging existence

as a fleeting

evolutionary dream

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

from which we may recover in time.

when our broken bones merge

our throbbing brains stop tenderising our skulls

nausea graduates to tremulous hunger

& digestion no longer tastes of battery acid

 

 

sinuses will itch yet stop aching

eyes will cease weeping

and cracking at the corners

 

 

our ancestry will cradle us in grey

& sway us home

over the pot holes

and stones and haul

ourselves into rest

still donning our clothes

which are dull with dried sweat

laying in heat and try to forget

that which brought our immunity crashing to bear itself among

a macrobiotic community of

self damaged with

nothing but curses for the woman screaming to hell in the ward next door

as she obviously doesn’t need help or assurance that she’s not going to die so she should have just SHUT THE FUCK UP and try to manage the carnage of what’s all just inside her mind as the pain isn’t real

its just something you

 

realise that your pain is

 

nothing and could never be

something worth crying about because

 

your pain is not real

and therefore my friends

comrades

accolades

entitled to be accomplices of fuckdom-

 

just what is this subjectivity shit to which we submit

 

subject

 

our objectivity

 

just so that we can all rest because we can blame it all

 

on our HEREDITY

 

our genetically

 

 

Inherited

 

 

 

 

 

STUP I DITY

 

 

 

am

in

pain

(what is left of us?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And please don’t think you can pretend you don’t hear me.