Stolen Goods

I think I have stolen this Good Mood?

Perhaps.

Is it because I don’t put my head down when I am walking? At the moment

anyway.

Tomorrow will it

be at the bottom of my bag

bent?

People don't take care of things they find or...

...steal.

I was in a rush and then I forgot about it

and slowed down...

...and

was late.

I am early when I am nervous and history is proving that my nerves are relaxed

these days.

I seem to have collected it somewhere between here, right here

and six years into the future, that’s what I am thinking about, whilst being late and slowing down

and picking up

The Good Mood.

Collecting it and smiling about change that I don’t have to deal with...

...for at least four of the next six years.

THAT’s

when I started to walk,

slowly.

I dwell in a tunnel.

I saw some of myself today, just a little.

A bit. Of myself.

I admit this in the tunnel because there are no

shadows.

It is dark so

i can’t stare at the good bits.

Angles above the eye, but below the eyebrow,

the cheek bone.

The places that cast shadow and I always enjoy

these bits

of Me.

I saw a bit

just a bit

of me today, across a table, not ominous... but

...with a much faster heartbeat.

No point dwelling.

It will only make me

more late.

Tomorrow

I’ll think it was...

...healthy.

To have

just a quick slip in and out of the body

mindful

not to stretch it and

loose its shape.

Rambling Draft

Voice One: Stitch up your sides!
Voice Two: STITCH!
Voice Three: KNIT!
ALL: MEND!
Voice One: Sit in the gutter with your needle work
Voice Three: It’s been exciting that’s for sure.
Voice Two: We’ve burst the seams/
Voice One: You’ve burst the seams?
Voice Three: THE SEAMS HAVE BURST!
Voice Two: Souls spilling...
Voice One: Watch!
Voice Two: Everywhere/
Voice One: like oily puddles in the supermarket car park.
Voice Three: They’ve been crying.
Voice One: We all cried.
Voice Two: It is true that those who burst shed tears.
Voice Three: Eyes are tired from crying/
Voice One: Eyes are glazed and shine like the inside of a foil wrapper.
Voice Two: The wrapper of a chocolate bar/
Voice One: in the hands of the boy in the car park/
Voice Three: he didn’t have to cry/
Voice Two: this time round/
Voice One: he walked out of the automatic doors, sweet in hand.
Voice Three: His blood like ours is thick and greasy.
Voice One: He holds it in.
Voice Two: Holds it in?
Voice Three: He has not burst.
ALL: MEND!
Voice Two: They don’t want to sit in the gutter.
Voice Three: We can’t have people spilling everywhere.
Voice One: My eyes are sore/
Voice Three: It’s the glare, the reflection.
Voice One: The Soul is bright/
Voice Three: It is very bright.
ALL: MEND!
Voice Two: Stitch up the sides.
Voice One: Everyone has an acquaintance good at handy work.
Voice Three: Everyone knows a mother.
Voice Two: Are Mother’s good at handy work?
Voice Three: It all depends on whether or not the wounded are students.
Voice One: Why?
Voice Three: Because you have better social skills if you’re learning...
Voice Two: What if you’ve already learnt? What if you have finished learning?
Voice One: The students, they cultivate conversation/
Voice Three: study is social.
Voice One: Haven’t you noticed/
Voice Three: That you aren’t very good at making conversation anymore?
Voice Three: Everyone always talks about the same thing.
Voice One: The eternal monologue, It’s a bore....
Voice Two: Surely the spilling, the leak with be a good conversation starter
Voice One: I just want a clean line; I want rows of them in the gutter, mending themselves.
Voice Three: We should all take care
Voice Two: We are very precious
ALL: MEND!