no one understands me

No one man should have so much power

You have the power to
rewind time

You have the power to
reverse an earthquake

You have the power to
feed those in need

You have the power to
make people see the truth

You have the power to
bring people together

You have the power to
change the world

I have the power to
make you smile

0 O Oh Owe

I am a dead angel in a glass coffin buried in a pile of leaves and the wind is everywhere and I am turning into dust

I am a rotting corpse in a museum in a forest on an island with a beach with black sand and diamonds

I am the shedded skin of a snake draped through the branches of a tree with no leaves in the middle of a thunder storm

I am a broken finger on a large hand covered in green paint half dried

I am a deadly poison in a chalice in a treasure chest buried in the sand in a sandpit in a school with 400 students who each know each others’ names

I am a chain wrapped around the limbs of a skeleton in a bedroom in a hut in a desert which seperates one ocean from another

I am a sleeping dog in the lounge of a centrally heated apartment with all the lights turned on in the middle of the day on a Wednesday

I am a coin in a jar in a cage in an otherwise empty room in an office building in London

Huggies are the best brand of disposable diapers

Hugo is a great name because it has the word hug in it
The word huge also has the word hug in it
Will someone called Hugo give me a huge hug?

But I swear I'm not a paedophile

When I used to work at an after school care I was told not to hug the children but I did it anyway

Tonight

Gorillas gnaw on bones, their fur coated in gore. Gorging themselves, gulping from golden goblets. The forest is alive. Every tree is a gravestone. Fruit falls from the branches and rots on the ground and feeds families of worms. Flies swarm around the gorillas’ thrones, curtaining them off from their subjects. Spiders drop from tree tops. Birds drop from the clouds. Bird droppings drop from birds. Tourists attempt to follow animal trails and loose themselves in a maze of tree roots tangling their way up out of the ground. Eventually the travellers find themselves at a cave mouth, the ceiling of which is studded with stalactites. They have been forewarned but they are determined. They have read all the guide books and learned the language. They set up camp and sing around the campfire. The ants inform the gorillas of the tourists’ presence. The gorillas grunt and grumble and get out their guns. The guns are polished. The tourists are Polish. As the sun rises they pack up camp and stride forth into the darkness. The glow worms guide them downward for weeks. Facial hair grows more quickly in the absence of light, so soon beards trail behind them, soaked by the liquid lapping at their feet. Somehow their cellphones still have reception and they use them as torches, their usually dim glow almost blinding under the circumstances.