PRIMAVERA#2, PORTO:

Mashed, trashed, shaking, vibrating oscillating, agitated,
aggravated, irritated, disconnected, assailed by smiles &
good intentions. Hit me with that sugar mint, deliver me
oh Lord! Im sonically dyslexic, lost the power of speech &
language, alien tongue, fingers like twigs, every question
an invasion, too complicated, kindness is violent & nothing
is right.
“I want to smash it up, I want to break it down, I want a
wall of tears to wash away”
I’m in orbit around that isolation, no ‘solution’, don’t
look at me, I got it bad, don’t want to bring you down,
keep away, need to re-connect with laughter, wash the dishes,
take the bins out, clean the cups at a meeting of minds so
similar they’d grin & cheer in recognition of this rabid feeling
& call it by it’s name so I’d know exactly where & who I am,
sail straight & clean again, reunited with the moment in the moment,
exactly where I am, calling for help, you send it, something’s
happening, pass the pancakes & syrup, I think I’m coming down,
kiss the ground, happy to be here.

(K)