textfiles.com: /magazines/UXU/uxu-603.txt

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                         Underground eXperts United

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         [  Stained Hands  ]                          [  By Joseph  ]


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STAINED HANDS
poetry by Joseph


                 Stained hands that I can't wash enough
                     Peeing in the wrong direction
                            Most of the time

                             I close my door
                         And shut off the lights
                     Trying to make the most of it

                   A scent of my mother stays behind
                            Arguing with me

                             I don't care
                   Could not care less, to be honest

                   If I were to look out the window
                 A couple of inches to the left of me

                             Grey and red
                      A man is walking his dog
                                Alone

                      I guess I can't blame him

                  She was here a couple of hours ago
                        The scent I mentioned
                      Won't leave my apartment
                  It's beginning to make me nervous

            Resting, leaning my neck against the red sofa
                 The stains on my hand still smells
                 I'm afraid I'm getting used to it



 I had my doubt
 There is no question about it

 Though
 Most of the time
 There was flesh, nipples and wine
 And happiness
 Of course

 It could have been better
 It could have been worse
 Of course

 But still
 After all these years
 I see her smiling
 Right back at me

 And I imagine
 The woman of all my nightmares
 Holding my child
 And smiling
 Right back at me

 While I was kind
 Should I?

 Stains left behind
 Did I?

 She made no sound
 Had I?

 I did leave some evidence
 And I did leave my signature
 In her

 I guess I could
 I guess I did



        You looked at the pictures
        You saw the remnants
        I would not be surprised if you perceived me as vulgar
        In fact
        I expect nothing less.

        Put face to face with some basic truths
        I realised
        That loneliness is in fact what I should expect
        And nothing else

        Coming to terms with it was not easy
        Alcohol came and went
        Women as well

        Sometimes showing, most of the time - not
        A surprised expression that daily meets me in the mirror
        Perhaps more truthful than anything else
        Staring back at me
        With the disturbing question of:

        Why and how?

        I told him to shave, and he refused - of course.
        Me, being disturbingly young,
        was not in the position to make demands
        But still
        I tell myself it would have made a difference

        But - I digress
        While you were looking at me
        I did feel a little something

        I did notice
        And it makes some of it worthwhile
        Knowing that

        You are

        Watching me

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 uXu #603              Underground eXperts United 2002              uXu #603
                     http://www.uXu.org/ - info@uxu.org
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Stained hands by joseph, poetry about sex and the aftermath of sex, "While you were looking at me I did feel a little something" poem by Joseph about “sitting in a room and then leaving to see the world outside”
and having someone watching him poetry: Stained Hands by Joseph in UXU newsletter, includes descriptions of physical stains on hands and their possible sources, such as blood, ink, or paint poem titled "stained hands"