Fuck off girder and turn yourself to light

Fuck off and don’t call for me again for I have woken early with purpose;

to avoid your preventative pulsating and the nasty wretched ways of your prevention

You are a girder that I alone produce, a product of my own making

but

you seem to have developed a dark and porous voice, stronger than the voice of my own lover

who

has taken her own share of your wretched weight.

 

You soil my visions with a blanket of muck and anchor me into submission

until the pausing of your resonance by sheets is the only forward route

A forward built on lying still, a forward way of hiding

 

You are a girder that we all produce yet seemingly a product of individual making

I have family stuck in real griefs and a father who was too “manly” to take your call.

Or perhaps he didn’t have time to write you and I was too privileged to respond

So common but yet so hidden, and spoken of so little, by so many who take your call

Fuck off and don’t call for me again for I have woken early with purpose;

Tomorrow and the next day, I will write until you turn to light, until all of me is light.

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