I know, I know, I know

I know, I know, I know

In another life, I am a man sitting on a fold-out chair with a wet rag in my hands, waiting for the cars to roll in

I am the wet rag, the hands, the cars rolling in

I am the cold, and your spine hunched against it

I am vicious, I think- sharp and vile with sticky fingers

I am the plastic cover on a children’s library book, circa 2008

I am still a liar, but I am less of a liar than I was back then

I am oozing

Losing parts of me in clumps of hair and flakes of skin

Memories to the wind

Obnoxiously chewing gum open-mouthed with tears streaming from my left eye from the menthol and the sharp November bite

Snot down my chin and pleghm up my throat

Brain discharge

I know everything I know has been drip-fed to me through filters of what I can and cannot know.

There is thunder rolling in the distance

No, not thunder (strike that). Trains and large vans carrying heavy cargo, and straining buses packed with passengers, lugging over bumps in the road.

Being young is beholding the luxury of ignorance regarding the matter of endings.

Now I am older, I know.

I know, I know, I know.