That day, he thought he had won
Her over with his scintillating lies,
The stories he made up of a past he
Never had, of lives and loves only
Ever imagined and never tried, of
His respect for the women he’d only
Ever used, thought he’d conquered
What his father had always told him
He had to conquer. He had no notion
Of tenderness or respect, and his world
Reveloved only around himself. The
Sneer on her lips surprised him, as she
Walked away and said she never wanted
To see him again.
R 24/09/2023 14:22
There’s not been any narrative from me in a long while, although it could be said that the poems themselves are a narrative to my life, perhaps better described as an existence between bed and desk and table (despite my awareness that I am fortunate to have any of those things).
I have desperately been trying to find an ending to The Mortality Code, and yesterday finally may have done so (if I can just find the right words to take me there). I have been very bad-tempered all week for want of that ending, and even now, I’ve got a semblance of buyer’s regret for even starting to write this book three years ago. Perhaps, once it’s done, I’ll decide that, after all, it’s no good, and consign it to the virtual existence that all manuscripts live in when they’re considered misshapen by those who have created them.
Anyway, life continues its not so measured tread towards whatever is ahead of me. I must practice acceptance again.