Read Me Poem by Adam Soper

You're the nicotine stain on my hands,
You force me to write Pages and Pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages,
It's all incoherent and it's all inconsistent,
Bite my lip until it bleeds,
Try to trigger my emotion,
Feed my Inspiration,
I always come back to you,
You're my Pet Sounds and my favourite book,
Just take a look inside my bag,
It will be a mirror to you,
To me it's a bag of mercury,
Weighing me down. Ruining my Back.

Countless lists, mix tapes and songs,
All in your name,
They're photographs of you,
Taken with a telescopic lens,
You render me completely useless,
Soap Operas, Reality Television, Bubblegum Pop,
You chew me up,
Whenever you face me, and embrace to me,
Show me the fragility with a smile,
Ice pick in winter,
Skate over my lake,
I'll wait a whole year for your return,
Yearning.

In between my fingers and knuckle,
You remain,
I am very aware of your presence there,
Will I ever weigh you down?
Force you to write late into the night?
I am doubtful.

I write pages about you,
You are the nicotine stain on my hand,
But to you,
I am a passer-by,
A bus stop,
A smashed shop window,
Boarded up,
Needing repair but only wanting to be looked in again.
Will you see through me?
Through my facade?
My acting can hardly be called good,
So wooden I'm practically a tree,
Arching over you,
Providing shelter on a rainy day.

You are radiance in it's purest form,
Radiation thick with anxiety,
Read my clothes,
Read my hair,
Read my Hands,
Read Me.