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i don't miss

when I was eight
hunted in Steytlerville
with a second world war 303
it was tall like me
never missed till I was 14
shot a Kudu in the neck
had to slit it's bleating throat
my uncle wouldn't let a bullet be wasted
never hunted again
two and a half decades later learnt again not to miss
some things take a while
and then they're always there but appear in glimpses
I don't miss
I don't miss my Jewish bitch princess
who I had to leave
for good her and mine
three weeks ago
made sure it was final by demanding the only piece of jewellery that I have ever bought in a jewellery shop back
to make sure she will hate me for ever and not miss me
but it's not all altruism
wouldn't have been able to make this month otherwise
I don't miss
I don't miss her lack of discretion
took all her shit and mine and the to-and-fro slinging
but if you miss homilies like cleanliness is next to godliness
then very good
but don't miss discretion is buddhahood but don't miss recognising the preciousness of reaching out
I don't miss
my mind bullets through lack of discretion
and bubble-based models that don't hold water
when I leap into water I don't miss
I don't miss
I don't miss my blissful childhood till I was wrenched out of autism at 10
don't miss adolescence
don't miss any schooling
don't miss philosophy at varsity
done to miss the army
could've read that stuff in exclusives or a varsity library
I don't miss
I don't miss the pain of getting out the army in 3 months
don't miss subsequent relationships
don't miss my ex leaving with my child and searing my mind
I don't miss
don't miss the wonderful bitches and the temporary hearths they provided, velvet passaged catapulting heaven
don't miss things with the end glanced in the first glance
which is everything
but not nothing
even though these glances are glimpses
still don't miss
I don't miss
don't miss not doing and the doings of dreams that once thought can give you a life you deem worth shit
I don't miss pricking bubbles
mine, yours or hers
I don't miss
my mind is focus itself on itself through itself and in itself through the thought bubbles proliferating from other minds
my heart always open, shredded yet somehow pumping whole
my stomach churns away any bitch who would place a socioeconomic system and related imperatives that can only exist in the absence of that which does not
like a condom sprayed with poxy viruses
I don't miss being told how I must be to have access to someone's cunt
and cleavage to fuck
don't miss creating liquid pearl necklaces around her neck, dabbed too late when dry by softer-than-soft tissues
I don't miss
I don't' miss not seeing Zinedine Zidane not miss
don't miss seeing Roberto Carlos being Roberto Carlos
I don't miss
I don't miss Uitenhage, Grahamstown, Joburg, Cape Town
but I don't miss writing, never miss writing when she arrives so silently, non-intrusively and offers herself