Patricia Walsh
Wasting Pain
Turning love into theory, weaving abuse,
into clean efficient time, rubbishing a given
recalcitrant fact washed over with dismissal
better to be eaten with, dunking the true heart.
This borrowed domicile, hijacking sleeping
constant bitching taints the doyen’s eye,
paying a debt to everyone, making sure i know it,
forgiveness not an option at least for the future.
A right to be depressed? Not routinely abused
nor living in Ballymun, should help matters
poisoning parties through attention seeking
not even liked, or hated, that’s for sure.
Abolishing support, no one comes near me.
Secretarial duties threaten the already sent
burning holds into the budget, simply not regretting
or the righteous demeanour regulating sane.
Obviously holding hands, drop by to a tee,
this backlash against the destined creature
rebounding from anger or at least, chagrin
a desire of the quiet writ large for ambition.
Skeletal structure, string-sugared without joy,
accelerated chasing death out of its closet
waking up to stories of Elysian socialising
fearing the best situations coming alive.
Other work by Patricia Walsh