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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

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blackened spoons

i carried you to bed, night after night, when you were too far gone to see me anymore
carefully undressed you and lay at your side until your eyes filled with twitching nightmare ridden sleep
your thinned yellow fingers knotted in my hacked red hair and your breath coming in strangled gasps
i always kissed the pale brown furrow between your eyebrows and whispered that i loved you

i would creep downstairs and collect scraps of burnished foil and splinters of my love
from the dusty threadbare carpet in the lounge
and scrub blackened spoons at the sink without waking your mother
passed out at the kitchen table with an empty bottle of vodka clutched to her chest
and then stroll home along the canal under a neon lit sky
disposing of used needles and bloodied tissues in the bins behind the steel works

curled up in my own bed i would drink whiskey straight from the bottle
until your beautiful face left my every thought and i could sleep dreamlessly
watching reruns of shows i hated the first time round
waiting for the inevitable early morning phone call when you wake and realise it has happened again
sorry you would whisper through clouds of smoke
clean tomorrow you would promise endlessly

and i would have to survive another day on only three hours of sleep worrying about where you were

i collected you in my mothers car when your dealer and a crowd of his closest friends
took it in turns to hold you down and rape you to pay the huge debt you had accumulated
i made you sit on sheets of newspaper to stop the blood and piss from staining the upholstery
called my mum and told her i was staying at your place
she said to be careful and to send her love
because to her you were still the twelve year old play mate of her only daughter
not the bleeding junkie that her daughter had fallen in love with in a treehouse

we went in through the back to avoid your mothers new boyfriend screaming at the footballers on the tv
surrounded by beer cans and shouting that he could do better with his eyes closed
your mother had a fresh black eye and hissed at us through gritted teeth
she told you that you were a disgrace before she took a long swallow from the vodka bottle in the pocket of her apron

i bathed you while you sat shaking and crying and laughing in equal quantities
gently sponged congealed blood from the insides of your thighs and chewed my lip
to hold in everything i could never say to you
in my head i built another fortress around us to keep the world out
which you slowly filled with poisoned needles and pointless tears
and i hated and loved you and vomited in the sink
you laughed and said we could blame it on your mum and i held you

i slept on the floor and the next day i told you i would help you stop
we got supplies like the guys on trainspotting and i told my mum i was staying again
we had a strained afternoon watching daytime tv and talking about travelling around the world
and you gave me a dry kiss from chapped thin lips that tasted of tobacco and blood

i went to take my mums car back home and you were gone when i got back
i phoned rico and he laughed and said the silly bitch always comes straight to me
and i sat on your stairs and cried until your mum asked me to leave
and i refused to answer my phone when you called at 4am

i didn''t cry when you died

i smiled and whispered i told you so and then walked until my feet bled
i didn''t eat or sleep and spent days sat on your bed reading your diaries
the unhinged stutters of the woman i loved speckled with blood and ash and tears and hope

on every page you asked me to forgive you

i stood at the back at your funeral surrounded by the other junkie scum
jittering and pretending to cry for you when they were crying for themselves
i thought about finding myself in your treehouse and left without saying goodbye

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