New Poetry by Zen Fairhurst

Bleach

My thoughts are like bleach, i wish to stop stripping people bare, wearing them down drawing them out tearing them to shreds with scrupulous care so they lose all reality and anything to grasp as perception, i like waves of thought dwell so deeply on interactions, conversations, perceptions, perceived that i lose entire views of humanity, i crush people down to their skeletal like frames, down to their skin and bones, and almost nothing more, its tragic despair as i realise all i remember is things i’ve put there to replace the people i’ve met and over wear with contemplation, spoiling and almost destroying the original memory, the rocks left smooth the pebbles on the beach only remnants of their wholes, chips to try and hold, i like bleach.

Even the one i loved i whittled him down to skin and blood.