Suburban lockdown
Unlocking my Shackles
This suburban lockdown reeks of humans in need of water, an odour similar, to the chopped tips of persistent Weeds
Weeds that continue to guide us into prayer, plucking and nibbling at the seeds of time
A time before these shackles.
At night, I walk past the freshly painted houses, the result of avoiding his idel hands
Clean cars glimmer against the midnight moon and all I hear, is ice, drowning in toxic shots of liquor and the deafening drag of a cigarette.
Netflix is all we talk about
Like all we have is that lump of technology, staring at us every God damn night
And just before we turn ourselves over to the sandman, we fuck, lapping up a moment of pleasure, wishing it will last.
Then comes Restless sleep and horrid dreams, all through the night.
I wake, and in that time, between darkness and light, I sit on the edge of my bed and rub my wrists, realising that these shackles existed before the arrival of this invisible foe
They exist now, they are heavy and visible, they are sore.
I vaguely recall a key, a key I'd seen in some lucid dream
I think it's time.
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Comments
A very intetesting write, Gerard. It takes the reader by the hand, unawares, and leads them through one man's experience of the lock down...we are shown the gleaming cars ...the drinking the smoking...the weed... and then, by the end, the reader realises that the bad nights go beyond the "lockdown." Excellent writing. Gritty and real x
Very gritty and surreal write, very well done.Â
Excellent.
Really enjoyed this, read it a few times. We are a whole world sitting on the edge of our beds wondering about the shackles...or at least realising that they have indeed always been there...will we put them back on?? ?
Woah a unique extraordinary perspective on lockdown, sublimely related !! Strong sarcastic wording all very poetic gahh!! Kudos.
plz pleez do read and comment on my newest poem too, plz don't forget.