These Genes.

Yes.
They fit quite well.
Give us a spin in them,
I can tell
You walk the walk like her-
the talk of him as well.
Wear them-
styled right-
not the noose that strangled tight,
Those consumed before you.
Around you-
know the weight of them may drown you-
but this profound you?
You treaded waters where they floundered.
Gulping shit, sewage seas
-of waves ripping through the scheme
whispering-
shame, death, pain.
I’ll get you next time.
Whispering-
don’t you dare dream-
beyond the fit of these sad genes.
Whispering-
one day I’ll have you.

Wear them as they did-
you will hear them.
Echo traumas of their being,
without thinking or seeing.
You vomit their words,
do as they do,
spinning in the cycle too.
Fraying at the seams,
spawns of broken dreams-
Playparks,
shattered glass, tangled swings,
Patched with prescription drugs, drink-
and the stink
that clings.
But kid,
that shit’s not yours.

Yes.
I wear them too,-
glad you noticed.
Embellished, upcycled in protest.
Patches on concrete grey
mask the colour of my pain
-and disdain
for the broken down place-
I hailed from.

And here-
tidemarks at the bottom-
The shitty waters haven’t forgotten.
Spilling up from drains
whispering-
shame,
grief, loss, pain-
yet why can’t we have you?
Whispering-
how dare you have dreamed
Beyond the fit of those sad genes?
Whispering-
one day I’ll have you.