Saturday, 16 June 2012


I am crashing down around my feet. 
Falling, falling down to the earth 
without a parachute and diving into 
a pool of my own tears. The shame of 
me is unbearable to see; as all the hard 
words and long hours of thinking amounts 
to nothing, as I am pen-full but powerless. 

I am not breaking down, I am broken...
and in many pieces. I am not the broken 
wine bottle that fell from your dinning table. 
I am the wine spilt all over your magnificent marble floor. 
The mess that you need to mop up; to make 
our house a home again; of course you could just 
leave the stain as it is...and never mop the mess....
leaving it as that funny African-shaped stain 
on your blue-veined white marble floors.

By Joe Pollitt

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