The Donor

Hello everyone, I don’t even know how long it’s been since I last updated but I know it’s been a very long time. I’ve been finding it really difficult to write really but due to a number of things i’ve decided now’s a fine time to start again. It’s mainly a feeling of nothing-ness I’ve been struggling with; without my identity as a writer I don’t really feel like I am anything at all, and I don’t want to feel like  that any more so I’m going to start writing again. It may be howlingly awful, but it’s time to start again. This poem is called The Donor and I hope you enjoy it.

Please stay in your car, I said to you that evening.
You sat there frigid. In the pub, the day before, we
still sat one-on-one, & these were your opinions: that
this was your life; that you cannot predict if trains
will be late; you cannot control the body count of
days that will lay themselves in front of you.
Some people call the police in times like this, so
they can be dismissed and left to die.

Remember me falling in the lake? You are doing
this now. Throwing yourself into cold water and
throwing yourself in again. We close friends stay
crucified in solidarity to you, the sun melted our flesh
we are beginning to grow it back – what’s left.
I might have let you in and shown you some things I like:
my typewriter, some poems, a drink or two.
I could have saved your life by showing you
a red lightbulb in the study lamp at my bedside
pooling the room with diaphanous light.

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