A Thorn In The Side

A thorn catches in the tie around my neck
I am back in the place where warmth is hard to find
The sharp doesn’t sting
Or draw blood
Not any more
I place a napkin around my fingers and pull
My fingers are tough
Hard
Resistant
The bag of knots waits for me
It was pushed back
Next to the beer can
I pick up a stick and grapple for it
The stick leaves a trace of wood on my skin
It rests underneath the smell of sugar and incense
Seven hours outside
Away from the empty of beige
Away from the softness of beige
It smells strange here
Like sickness
Catching us up
Spidering its way up the elevator shaft
Killing us
Insidiously
Almost without action
In the beige place people jump
He jumped
Because the tie didn’t work
Now every time he takes a piss
He will remember the second he opened the window
And jumped
The limp will last much longer than that second
Maybe we jump to find life
Not to kill it
Not like this place kills life
Kills us
I think of the men with nothing
Holding each others hands in the alley
They feel cold
They warm each other
They are not scared of the filth
Not like these people of care
Swathed in rubber gloves
They will never see
It is not despair that passes through skin
But life
Hope

Tiny hands rest on the back of the train seats
Waiting for the alley or the gloves
Skin is a fresh blanket waiting to be fucked on
Or loved

Rocks in the water
Powder in my veins
I am alive and pulling thorns from my skin
A napkin in the pocket to wipe away the dust
I will hold your hand
I am not afraid.