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.

Repeating again 

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


A thrust

breath blown out of me

You always interrupt me Warren, I’d say

Another thrust 

But you’ve said you loved me,

Another thrust 

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 

the begging 

the pushing 

Get out of me 

leave me 

stop interrupting 

stop corroding


your hands kept wandering 

kept polluting my outsides even though I begged 

every skin cell you’ve touched 


Damage done, 

so I’d thought 

but then 

you kept repeating 

i’ll never leave, I’ll never leave, I’ll never leave



unmasked now,

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.

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