In a manner of speaking
What if, and what’s on its place, there to remain
for some spare time at least now that there is.
One body in a field just waiting here to explode or fill up a gap in time,
just right there beside it wanting to be watched of restricted from its memory.
I’m over here just waiting; not in a movie-wise where the other figure is screaming/asking
‘do you want to fight me?’ as if only violence can stay when you say so.
I’d rather stay put when some time beloved friend decides to wake up but they don’t:
they imagine it which is fair; or at least sounds fair.
But it doesn’t affect them/conclude me or satisfy a regular monday,
when we look back at it with blood coming out of our shell.
When you wish for future you’d speak out against it,
but you haven’t yet when I entered the room furious with a discomforting
way of just saying hello.
I came to suit you, like I haven’t before.