Chairman
Fish's
Big
Red
Book
|
They could've warned me,
When
I began writing,
That
sometimes the words,
Have
a life of their own,
As
a nagging reminder,
Of
pain and emotion,
While
creative tensions
Wait
straining in line.
Cajoling
commandments,
Threaten
our secrets,
Whilst
fiction's muses,
Join
with fantasy in chains.
The
muses, being handcuffed,
Reveal
their subservience,
To
crises of fact,
That
won't be repressed.
With
nobody listening,
No
empathic companion,
Insomnia
follows,
Increasing
fatigue.
The
conscience claws,
Fielding
dissonant advisers.
The
final decision:-
Divorce
and be damned.
Attempts
at an audience
With
choked inspiration,
Confirm
the conviction
That
truth can't be bound.
Going
over, in pain,
My fury's confession,
A
private performance
For
absent friends' ears.
The
end was explosive,
But
not unexpected,
A
chastening conclusion
To
a world of false hopes.
Shattering
glass
Marked
relationship's passing,
A
broken doorway,
To
a waking world.
The
future's now open,
An
unwritten novella,
With
each new experience,
Providing
a stage,
Where
I'm still an actor
Who
longs to start playing.
So,
"Exeunt omnes
And
prepare the next set."
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