Sentencing
I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like the idea that they’re watching
From the top of the stairs,
From the deep end of the pool,
From the scuttling corners of life
I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like to think of them because
They don’t smile properly
They avoid eye contact
And they don’t play fair:
Like when they try to take before
I can say goodbye properly
I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like to meet them unexpectedly
When I’m not composed and ready
Sneaking under my subconscious
And waiting to pounce on my everyday
With blank walls and full stops
And hospital diagnoses
So I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like the way they move
Their slow sideways gait
Like silent crabs, heavy
With weightlessness and
Sorrow. They climb all over my dreams
As if my sleep were full of handholds
I don’t like to think about them
The endings, I mean
Their shape, their breath
The print of their touch on my clothes
Their smell in my deodorant bottle
I don’t want to think about it
They move the signposts
So I can’t drive properly
So I can’t walk to the shops right
And I trip up on the pavement
I don’t like it
Their stops, their drops, their
Sense that the present will become past and
Nothing will be the same again
I don’t want it
I don’t like them
The endings
The letter in her hand
The sentence passed
I don’t want to
Don’t think of it
The endings
Please God, let it be quick.
I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like the idea that they’re watching
From the top of the stairs,
From the deep end of the pool,
From the scuttling corners of life
I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like to think of them because
They don’t smile properly
They avoid eye contact
And they don’t play fair:
Like when they try to take before
I can say goodbye properly
I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like to meet them unexpectedly
When I’m not composed and ready
Sneaking under my subconscious
And waiting to pounce on my everyday
With blank walls and full stops
And hospital diagnoses
So I don’t like to think about endings.
I don’t like the way they move
Their slow sideways gait
Like silent crabs, heavy
With weightlessness and
Sorrow. They climb all over my dreams
As if my sleep were full of handholds
I don’t like to think about them
The endings, I mean
Their shape, their breath
The print of their touch on my clothes
Their smell in my deodorant bottle
I don’t want to think about it
They move the signposts
So I can’t drive properly
So I can’t walk to the shops right
And I trip up on the pavement
I don’t like it
Their stops, their drops, their
Sense that the present will become past and
Nothing will be the same again
I don’t want it
I don’t like them
The endings
The letter in her hand
The sentence passed
I don’t want to
Don’t think of it
The endings
Please God, let it be quick.