All Works · Poetry

Inner Monologue

sam-wheeler-95303-unsplash (2)

He’s so far away

So far.. he might as well be God.

Apparently ubiquitous, but demonstrably aloof and nebulous.

What the fuck do you want?

Do you even want?

Are you even in there?

Are you even here?

As you sit across the kitchen table behind the Sunday Times newspaper (stop sipping the coffee like that, fucktard!), I hear Marilyn Manson singing in your non-voice, swaying and swaggering with the wide lens camera like a sentient rag doll – not here: “Don’t assume that I’m always with you, it’s just where my mortal body happens to be”

What the fuck are you?

God?

How do you get away with making me feel so shitty without even — no, fuck you!

I’m not gonna bother anymore.

 

Photo by Sam Wheeler on Unsplash

Advertisements

7 thoughts on “Inner Monologue

Leave a Reply

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

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 )

Connecting to %s