Men have moved to cities where I’ve wanted to live – cities I can’t afford, cities I’m not good enough for – only to complain that the trains are late and that somehow they’re bored. The life I want is in their hands, and yet their gratitude is low in demand. I can’t presume […]Read more "Polite Requests"
I am the end of the world. I am the earth made barren and robbed of utility. I am scorched beyond fertility. I am the craters in the earth on once-inhabited land, ever-deepening from nuclear attacks, sustained long after the dead became dust. I am the great flood. I drown all hope of […]Read more "I Am the End of the World"
You played piano as I held your hands. I felt your fingers glide across the keys, striking my beating strings like you were born for me to love, and in that moment you were Mozart. Ever since you’ve been Schoenberg, causing discord that I can’t help but applaud; music I laud as much as it […]Read more "Piano"
I freeze easily, but walk against the breeze regardless. The climate and cards you’re dealt with require you to harden, but that’s not to say I weather it well. Everybody sweats in hell, but just as frostbite sets to strike I’m lent a minute by the sun to thaw until the cold creeps back to […]Read more "Talk About the Weather"
You pay a price for self-reliance. You dice with deaths from treatable causes, but famines cover the expense of defence. I’m starving for my arsenal, surviving in poverty. I’m isolation, preservation, a foreign policy destroying dreams. I’m like North Korea with no self-esteem. – © Sam Hunt, 2017Read more "Hermit Kingdom"
I waterboard myself with tears that I’ve saved. I lay back shackled to pain with a cloth draped over my face, pouring my agony over my airwaves and cutting off oxygen to my brain. I can’t think straight when I think of your name. It conjures up passion so great that I try to torture […]Read more "Blame"
Change, for you, is not a priority. You favour mockery over empathy. If we cleaned up you’d lose your identity. You want these streets to be littered with alcies, addicts and deadbeats, because without them you’re nothing, so you call for punishment like a teacher with a fondness for the feel of the cane […]Read more "Shoeless"