Blake Day

Poetry & Lyrics

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That’s it then

(Berlin, summer of 2016)

The phoenix covers itself up with ashes.

They are still nice and warm.


The turtle pulls its head back in.

It was already starting to hurt.


The blossom shrinks itself back to a bud.

Let’s see if the bee can get in there.


The water flows back into the tap.

The drain gave it the creeps.


That’s it then.


The worm crawls back into the ear.

The music outside made it want to puke.


The sperm goes back into the testes,

and says: “I disapprove of the rivalry.”


The bullet goes back into the barrel

and says: “The bang was way too loud.”


The ink goes back into the pot,

and says: “What a waste of paper.”


That’s it then.


The tongue goes back into the mouth,

and says: “I refuse to taste.”


The tone oscillates itself back into the instrument.

It has got better things to do.


The prophet climbs back on top of the mountain.

He has forgotten something up there.


The warmth goes back into the oven.

For firewood is scarce these days.


That’s it then.


The key turns itself back into the lock.

It was the wrong door.


The thorn nestles up against the stem.

The rose was missing it too much.


The letter goes back into the envelope,

and admits it is just empty talk.


The ichor oozes back into the open wound,

and says: “You can heal yourself. I’m out.”


That’s it then.


The smoke flows back into the lungs,

and says: “I’m much more needed there.”


The bird flies hastily back up North.

At least it is notorious up there.


The clockhand jumps back to five minutes to midnight.

It enjoys watching the previews.


The train races back into the station.

The switch was set in the wrong direction.


That’s it then.


The word echoes back into the mouth,

and says: “One more time with feeling.”


The old man squirms himself back into the womb,

and says: “Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!”


The thought thinks itself back into the brain,

looking for the rewind button.


The nail hammers itself back on the cross.

It is still a perfect fit.


I crawl back into the tunnel.

The light was neon – way too harsh.


You crawl back into your castle with the low ceilings.

One day they will drop on your head.


That’s it then.

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