Spending Time At The Crime Scene By Joe Hakim

Coping with the enormity of committing the crime of the century, my heart is empty and so is my head, no sleep when I go to bed, something outside is dead. The true implications dawning as I drink a beer in the morning and I pick off the label, feet unstable as I walk into the yard, consequence of evidence hits me hard. Blinking as I flick my cigarette and start thinking about regrets, how did I get myself into this mess? Understand less and less, don't know what to do next or how to be strong how to get along just for the sake of it, knowing I'll have to fake it.

The future's in tatters and the victim still chatters, telling me how I've lost everything that matters, constantly reminding me and then blinding me to the reality of the situation I've caused, no time to pause, something isn't here anymore, but I can't stop praying it will come back, I was behind the attack and the fault is all mine, and it won't leave my mind. Don't know how to behave, don't know what will save me from this feeling in my chest that won't go away, the tyranny of a blank day that demands to be filled by digging up the corpse of the relationship I've just killed.

Copyright © Joe Hakim 2007

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