SHAPES

We circle around, but never square up

Three points of the triangle, sharp and abrupt

Points to be made, points to be scored

Three fingers point to the chalk on the board

We each take a side and lay rigid and straight

Perfectly formed and yet bent out of shape

Sides to be chosen, corners to fight

Place the blame squarely then button up tight

Blood bubbles and boils under the skin

Until the surface can’t hold, it bursts from within

Watch the fire catch then go on the run

After pushing the vampire into the sun

And we clamber to reach the apex of the pyramid like competing mountaineers, and we are so sure of our foothold then it just gives way, crumbling under our feet, but that’s ok, because it sends shards of broken rock raining onto those behind us, blocking their paths. And deep inside there are three tombs waiting, and we’ll be there one by one, three Pharaohs of the unfair, until we are just fucking dust, trapped forever within an ancient monument built by our own bullshit, and just like the pyramids, our future generations will wonder who built this, who started it, how, and why?

The shapes in her palm are wooden and soft

She names them with glee as she holds then aloft

Shapes to be moulded, shapes to be shifted

Back to the form from which they were twisted

So we strive to be seen as well rounded and fair

I can’t let her be shaped by the cross that I bear

So place a new point at the triangles base

And pull it right down so it makes a new shape

A diamond that glints through the darkest of nights

And makes us forget all the battles and fights

Because

This tangled triangle

It makes people disappear

It makes people live in fear.