Writing by Clem Prime. Illustrations by Annie Whiteson.
Tea Time
Watching the mould grow in my tea
Comforts me
It means things
Take their intended course in life
Following the laws of nature
Ordered chaos slowly decaying
Turning all shades of blue and green
So when I feel like I know nothing
I look at the mould
And think how beautiful and putrid
How resourceful and rancid
Not useless in the least
It is actually just like me
Blue Beast
My body is immense
My womb warm, rounded but empty
Who lives in this tiny world ?
I wish it was you beneath it all
But nothing lives in this shallow land
It’s sadness growing inside of me
My belly swelling up like a beautiful beast
Boiling patiently
Waiting for a moment to leap out at the world
And decimate everything in its path mercilessly
Kill, maim, thwart and suffocate the chaos
Like a little child being born blue
Gasping for air
Screaming to fill a void
It will soon learn nothing can be done
But rest its head on its mother’s breast
And suckle like a lamb
Born wet and cold
Sustained only by its fat
But my bones are bare
Too tired to eat
Everything is failing me
Childless womb, broken organs and burnt out brain
You will be my saving grace.
Flowers in February
My mother told me I wish I could carry your pain
So it doesn’t have to wear you down
And I wish you wore my pain too sometimes
Tried it on like a costume
To see how it would fit
But you, the most beautiful boy
Are a martyr of none
My father said I wish he would have spared you
But I know we were happy in June
I just wanted to be your baby
And you let me for a while
Before you moved away in July
Leaving me wild and angry
Like flowers in February
Insolent little month
Slowly growing resentful
But crocuses and daffodils plentiful
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