when is

i wonder.

do we really know,

when enough is enough.

when the filter on the water tap is all used up

and no amount of purification shit

will purify it.

do we really know,

how much we will take

before the tank is empty

or alternately

filled to fucking over flowing.

maybe, when your heart cracks

that little bit more,

and you can now see visible lines on the outside.

or maybe, there are so many tears

you can’t see out them orifices no more.

maybe its the still, the deathly still.


that reverberates round your memory

screaming at you to run nigger run.

or maybe, its the heaving in the pit of your gut

that is churning so hard you know its only a matter of time

before chunks are blown.

or maybe, just maybe

its hearing that she died at a ripe old age,

her only regret was she never found

the old vibrant self she used to know.

the one before she was shot in the head by

hormones, and infatuation.

she never found that person that she had been.

she’d looked, searched hard.

and now here she is.

it’s too late.

all that time has been … and gone.

maybe thats the catalyst, for change.



and then you think about the long walk your gonna half to take. the long search to find everything all over again. to start it all again. alone. broke. broken. old. fucked.

kpm ©