you built a hammock of yourself to nestle me in, gather my splinters
didn’t ask you to
Didn’t want you to
I’d forgotten how much of a man you were
Their eyes lack dimension when its about something they think they need
For a hammock you ask too much love from a rusted, over worn piece of scrap
such as myself.
I couldnt love you
you kept interrupting
Yes you do, you do, you do.
You do, you do, you do
That I believed that yes I did, I did, I did.
your last interruption was abrupt
you had to have it didn’t you?
you flipped me on my back
you pull down your pants
push mine to the side
breath blown out of me
You always interrupt me Warren, I’d say
But you’ve said you loved me,
But you’ve said you’d protect me
that you’d admire me from a distance
your putrid soul spread into me and I can never scrub my self clean again
And the wailing begins
Get out of me
your hands kept wandering
kept polluting my outsides even though I begged
every skin cell you’ve touched
so I’d thought
you kept repeating
i’ll never leave, I’ll never leave, I’ll never leave
another man with hands in the wrong places
hands that were not mine
All posted pictures are art work by William Kentridge in his WHY SHOULD I HESITATE Exhibition in Cape Town, South Africa.