The Working Wounded

To the tune of: Soundgarden – Black Hole Sun

Gogol #3

Shards and splinters at the centre of the black
Rotating, clashing, pulling
I look down, aghast
And draw my lapel across,
daintily, hoping it doesn’t show.

Even so;
it gnaws and itches;
grinds nerves and memories
together beneath my shirt’s pun like
matched ends of a broken bone.

I walk on.
It doesn’t show.

Advertisements

GriddleOctopus

There are few harder things in life than introducing yourself, especially in print where mellifluous nuance can turn to indulgent wankery. So. I am definitely a 'writer'. You could also call me an 'artist'. I could probably put the words 'designer' and 'consultant' here too, but they feel crass.

Submit a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s