after Buddy Wakefield
I spent ten years as a full time martyr.
I was aiming for Saint Cul de Sac
but the Pope doesn’t canonise kitchen sink crucifixions
so I stopped crossing my heart.
There are too many hiding places in a fixed smile
and nobody found me.
See these moths under my eyes?
That’s from not blinking.
Choose your words carefully,
I’m still reading the ones etched on my eyeballs.
Second chances only happen once;
after that, it’s like bleeding onto a flag
and organising a bullfight.
This steak knife reminds me of absent flesh.
Forgive me, I don’t mean to be brutal.
If disappointment was a lifestyle choice
they’d sell that sinking feeling in Tesco.
I’ve searched the greeting card section –
With Sympathy doesn’t cover it.
Please seduce me out of this flat mood.
Of course I’d like to fuck you but I’m not that easy.
You can’t kiss away my scars.
Press your lips against them.
You’ll be the first.