Piece of Work

A Piece of Work

I am a being of not-easy extraction

I am a creature of express notions

I am carried on vast, unpredictable torrents of association

I am but a force, an epiphenomenon of the brain.

I am not a machine. I am a long and painful process

I am not the housewife’s choice of prime-cut

hand-held, animated meat. I am not a string of fantasies

I am not mere packaging. I am not a polystyrene tray

cracking underfoot in the festival heat. I am barely the cling-film,

transparent and tight, abandoned by birds on an under-populated street.

I am the blood in flight. I am the black heart beating at the liquid core

of your intimate gathering. I am the faithless knight. I am the war

your head and your heart often wish they were having. I am the intelligible

I am the drama. I am everything that’s wrong with this, and that - or any given order

I am the stirred. I am the shaken. I am a shot fired in jest that becomes a massacre.

I am the lonely. I am the loud. I am a curious heavy cloud

in a shallow world. I am profound. I am deep as the world’s most hazardous puddle.

I am a mishap. I am a trip. I am an ill-fated voyage on the tragedy ship

I am the shameless. I am the proud. I am your license when nothing’s allowed

I am Schopenhauer. I am Nietzsche. I am a stepping stone of the future. I am a student

of the perverse, and a perverted teacher. I am extracurricular. I am a work of passion