simple words for simple hurts

by Arran James

what on earth is going on?

A perfect week
Kisses in the night
The kind of sex angels
Fall from heaven just
To sneak a voyeurs repentance at
Mostly in bed
Shed of intellect
Free of culture
And the weight of banality called
Forward motion
Sharing in the sweetest
Stickiest, honeyed inertia

A perfect week made nothing
Because i’m empty
Because there is no adjective left
Inside the sadness of this skin
I have to break her
Because i am broken
Because you have broken me

Because that is my truth now
That where my heart should be
All there I find are remnants of the claws
You used to tear it out

There is no smoke
And there is no fire but in the flesh
Beyond that i can’t make any promise
And she deserves it

I am the wrong thing
Doing the bad thing again
And again
Trying desperately to make good

But

I am lost and i don’t know what I’m doing
And i hurt
Spurning happiness, stumbling from mess
To tortured mess.

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