N. L. H. Hattam


Hello my name is [An Anachronism].
Did I ever tell you I was afraid of becoming obsolete?

It was so funny, so there I was just looking at my head in the oven thinking, “Isn’t it funny, isn’t it funny how I am afraid to talk to people because I can’t handle that look of rejection again.”

The look where they stare into your eyes and see only a sad, desperate, panting beast. Barking in another language. Seeming happy or sad for no reason at all.

Right – My yearly salary.

I watch you get up to go to the bathroom and slip on the edge of the stairs,
You lose your balance down forty five flights,
Only to finally fall on the last step,
Tumble down,
And crack your head on the edge of someone else’s table.

They all laugh.
I smell blood in the air and scuttle over.
I can’t resist slipping my tongue into the hole in your skull,
And lapping up the slightly tangy
Taste of another human’s pain.

You gurgle, laugh and shake your hands,
“Oh no, that was a long time ago.
Don’t worry. I’m fine now.
If you've got the time, how does a movie sound?”

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PoetryJeremy Bibaud