Dispute/Disrepute by TheLastIconoclast, literature
Literature
Dispute/Disrepute
Why must you meet me here?
By these brushes, while rushes weep
And dance beside the cotton?
There are no words left,
No victory, nor defeat,
But vague murmurs,
Second hand hate!
I hurried, past the burning year
Where whole months fluttered,
School notes on the wind,
Lost like landmines.
Word-hover, five feet in front,
Fireflies that sprint before my hand.
Come back to me, something, please,
Lest I fill friend’s seats with merest strangers.
I have howled this out before, in rain,
Drifting, flotsam man, down by dusk
And rivers packed with rusted steel.
I lived, lived to make mistakes again
Not learning, too wounded to walk.
At edges,
This void yawns around me,
As I yawn, worn to the bone.
Ignoring the rain, filled with medicine,
The motions I make are stiff and dull.
A stunned mannequin, hovering
For years on the cliff-edge
Wishing for wind to drive me over.
How I quake in the hours, silence,
Broken by click-clacks and a broken
Cable’s whining, alone.
This year shudders out in murk
Just as it began, as all begin and end.
The heat and cold brawl over me,
Like roaring drunks, divorcees
Fighting over this little room.
My dreams sit outside my window,
Leering from beyond curtained-eyes.
Exhaustion leans around my screen,
Weary itself from drugs and drink.
Pistol wit