Bastard
A Poem about being hijacked
Published in
Aug 27, 2023
I am strolling, café-bound
sauntering through thoughts
that fall like autumn leaves,
veins of history, texture and hue.
Blocking me, you poke,
thrust, penetrate my ear
floor my furrowed head
pinned by an acoustic jab.
My brain curls — a hedgehog,
frozen, spiked for defence
against your violations of noise and light
tunnelling like a dentist through my eyes
You come at me, hustling
with the scream of an electric drill
begging hat outstretched
demanding payment for trepanning.
Snared in tunnel vision — f-ing
Tourette’s, spines aiming like bolts
I want to kill
the electric of your assault.
I uncurl and remember to walk
my senses away
I cannot live in rage —
I must always pay the price.
© 2023, Pablo St. Paul
English writer in Indonesia
