“Les Voyageurs” by Bruno Catalano

a bloviating manic-depressive …

squirming inside my skin,

razor blades grating within,

needing to moult once more,

knowing i am a wastrel, a festering sore.

whirling static in my mind,

swirling rainbows left behind,

needing to turn off every light,

knowing i am a stain, a grotesque blight.

jangling nerves shatter my soul,

rhymelessly battering my whole,

needing to flee from all of this,

knowing i am a mistake, hideously amiss.

discordant shrieks assail my heart,

baleful cries rip each moment apart,

needing nothing but desolate space,

knowing i am a shell, a hollow carapace.

wake me up when this night takes leave

thrash me with your words that cleave,

whip me into desiccated formlessness,

for there is nothing here i will ever miss …

art by banksy