tuiteamach / falling

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when you speak to me of love

your voice is all constricted,

your gaze is down.

watching restless movements,

birds circling your feet — today’s incompletes

drowning in substantive

thought — i can feel it — the reverberated

shuffling, nights ripple of uncomfortable,

mistimed tuneless

unorchestrated movements,

the awkward in-betweens of our life.

and yet.

full of care,

care sits right over there,

with you. sits where you sit, somehow

it fits, & i am — comfortable

for the first time — in a long time. yet

my heart is pounding, rushing, flowing,

pulsing, growing into you, pulling away.

blooming — booming — my voice

is all avoidance, avoiding me, the day,

my feelings as all the words flow on repeat

and rush away — flowing forwards,

rushing, running,

leaving me.

standing -— still.

my mind

and all contained — will never find the still,

the air around, the room in which we sit

or stand, to fall.

i fall, i fail.

the continual fall to fail,

below your feet.

and who am i.

a passing torment.

a passing — wasted

moment,

inside the blink —

of your eye.

©kbain2018.

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gun rabhadh / unannounced  

Standard

voices come to me unannounced i  
answer them. they offer unfinished
questions. i have incompletes to give
spoken, in the language of broken. 
mouth sounds, garbled out sync
from a time before, the out spark misfire.
they hover near my face, sometimes they
bark, i am the one begging. they slide into
me as i become. disappear at my bidding 
back into the porous wall, the white noise sleep, 
the shutter, curtain to the overwhelm,
offered up from the land of never born. i sink. 
i am the stone, recumbent 
under ice river, white numb bone. 
the water goddess ice shelf 
washes over me.
i drift to sea. no dreams live underwater.
blanc nothing, buoyant in loss. i am 
absent. existence ebbs & flows 
inside the undertow i was born into, that keeps me
down. i kick, twitch to surface spitting.
lashed incomplete, inside confusion. 
drying out, thawing, i will remember who i was,
next,
time.

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.  

an-luchdaich / overload    

Standard

how did I get to this place ?     

this undetermined stop. inside the garden       

of the walled indifference    

of me. do i stop in recognition of these silent   

shadowed spaces. do they perceive me, at my

weakest point. do they hear the

static overload. the voices that push 

& press, all the buttons all at once.

the pressure to address,

the irritation in my mind. that is pulled 

to the point of overload. are they the 

silent witness to the thoughts 

that live past rescued reason. 

the shapes that watch & follow.

that walk, stalking beyond the cracks.

pulling me over the unseamed edge.

inside the well worn ridges of my

descending mind[set] in its oblique 

groove overture. 

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.