literature

Four

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Literature Text

Wake up. Song playing in my head.
Play it out. Heard it before?
No, made it up this time.
On repeat all morning, the same
Snatch of music, no origin,
No end. Repeat, repeat,
Repeat. Da-dum, da-dum,
Da-dum.   Da-dum. Has to be four.

Do it again.
Dadum dadum dadum dadum.

Boil the kettle, choose a mug.
If you don't choose the right one,
You'll feel like shit all day.
Agonising tension.
Breaks, I choose a mug.
Hope it's the right one,
it is it is it is it is.
(it isn't.) It is.

Pick a teaspoon.
Better get the right one,
Or you don't love your mum.
I do love her, I do love her.
Prove it.
The right one. There.

Now stir.
Four times that way,
Four times that way.
Shit, one extra. Have
to even it out now.
Four that way, then five,
Then four and four for good measure.
Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

All these calculations twisting around,
Constant give-and-take
Transactions with the other voice,
Bartering against a make-believe enemy
Who wants to control me.
But it's my stupid voice.

What is it about the real world
that inspires my brain to fight itself?
Is the world not challenging enough?
Is the world not complicated enough?
Is the world not a strong enough opposition
Without another voice to up the ante?

Why do I invent meaning
For every infinitesimal
decision  action  choice  thought  
pattern  of my life?

I do not need this gravity
Pressing over my fingertips
As they adjust my mug's placement
On the coaster by minute degrees
To determine whether or not
My mother will live a long life.

Am I practising for something?
This some kind of stress reaction,
Learning to make decisions
While teetering on imaginary cliffs?
Testing myself in preparation
For a forthcoming drama known only
To that second voice?

I want my first voice to be my only one,
But even now it's listening
To the second voice counting
the lines, making sure the number
is divisible by four
And the writing keeps a steady rhythm
Listening to the second voice
Telling me to write these words
On just the right angle,
With just the right flick at the end,
If I don't want anyone to die.
A poem I wrote to read aloud in my poetry class this year. Loosely based around the workings of my head in my early teens. Now, I've learned to tell the voice to piss off.
© 2014 - 2024 RadishStick
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the-no-teeth-girl's avatar
i love this poem, i just really love it