3rd April, 2019

I’m deteriorating.
Melting.
Coagulating.

Faster than the bacteria on that cheese sandwich he made me
The last before leaving

For a swim then.
Forever,
after.

My parts are fusing into the other.
Passing on their responsibilities.

Faster than Nanna’s Custard-Jelly.
The one she made on her birthday.

Her last supper.
Our last,
anything ever.

A few neurons left crackling.
Set aflame by words
slowly dripping an illusion of euphoria

Slower than that last doze I jacked up
to make this poem live
to make this end - end.  

reminder

Flowers always smell good. 

Even in pictures. 

Flowers look pretty,
Even in death. 

my book, their knife

Stop cutting stories
stop slicing words
stop chopping letters
out of my everyday.
My life cries - very often sometimes
Tears trickle down
my whole
like yours down your cheek
when you peel & chop onions,
the dozen of them,
for the gravy train
on your merry Christmas.  

Stamp

A ball of golden yellow
hung like a lamp on the wall of the sky.
Freshly unwrapped-cardboard, bubble wrap, thermocol beans.
I sit glaring, stamping yellow dots at every blink.

Even the night has some sun in it now. 

Tomorrow

Two crows were perched up on a hearse.
Squawking.
Discussing the fate of their oldest friend.
Who would soon join them.
On his own grave - perched.
Squawking. 

Bob

My head bobbing
Run the Jewels talks Blockbuster to me
He sits on the curve of the street
Looks in
Stares
Bobs head to match mine

Rickshaw moves
His gaze not moving
Run the Jewels now talks Blockbuster to him
My bob matches his

that hotel garden

I was too stoned to photograph 10 lamps hanging by window panes.
Above which were window panes to houses for a night-a day. 

she writes

All day I've built 
a lifetime and now 
the sun sinks to 
undo it. 

Anne Sexton 

Hide & seek

As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.

                                                 Anne Sexton

    

                 

No one looks at gardens anymore

I was thrown under the bus and told to dig my way to China 

and come out on the other side of the globe, you know. 

But I didn't dig that far.

Instead I just dug till the other side of the road, found some worms, 

some random seeds, and saplings came through with the sun and 

the shine. And then I just let it all grow into this gorgeous garden. 

And it had flowers and weed and squirrels and lizards. And I just 

hid under it all, cause you know, no one really even looks at 

gardens anymore. 

And then I had this whole land of bloom and sunshine and rain and 

moon rays and I wasn't killing life, I was breathing around it. 

And then I just lived. 

No one knows if I made it to China. Cause I don't know if there was 

ever anyone waiting, ever anyone looking. Or if any of them dug a 

tunnel to the other side. I don't look at the rushful roads anymore 

you know, so I will never know. 

And my garden. Well it says hello to the sky every day. 

Anne Sexton

Do you like me?”
No answer.
Silence bounced, fell off his tongue
and sat between us
and clogged my throat.
It slaughtered my trust.
It tore cigarettes out of my mouth.
We exchanged blind words,
and I did not cry,
I did not beg,
but blackness filled my ears,
blackness lunged in my heart,
and something that had been good,
a sort of kindly oxygen,
turned into a gas oven.

no more green

28th September, 2016
2:20 am
A man is learning to roller skate by himself
I'm back in the city after 46 days
And the sound of the rickshaw i'm in is only as cheerful as it used to be never. 

Booty Call

I'll be another 'Woodside' flashing on his screen. 

Lora Mathis writes

Your heart is the size of a fist because you need it to fight. 

The zoo

There are demons in my garden, Fred.
Green-eyed, evil-spirited, invisible - that chatter muchly.

There are insects in my cookies, posing to be chocolate chips, ready to go through thirty seconds of radiation in the microwave; suicide bombers i say -wanting to spread the infection of the population in me.

There is wine in my brain; red, thick, lumpy with grey cell collaborations. Streaming down the neurotic veins - like a river full of plastic waste, all made unclean by the guilty corpses of human memories.

There are world's in my heart; locked down, banished, quarantined, covered up by layers of broken promises, betrayal, fear, revenge, and truth.

There are marks on my feet. Caused by the thorny trees climbed, the mountains crawled to see the sea of clouds, by sea-urchins on the bed of the oceans bobbed with people I've met - hearts I've travelled through and with. There are marks on my feet - bruises I like, the kind you get when you walk on fire to win the war with the other you.

There are holes on my clothes
and burns in my heart

A ribbon to distract,
and a glass of tears to wash down. 

Sexting Tips

“Only the united beat of sex and the heart can create ecstasy.”

Anais Nin 

Ventriloquist dummy

Go away, go away, you're killing the little porcelain puppets

Go away, go away, you're causing pain for the blow up dolls

the hectic hour has arrived 

when you let the clock chop it's hands

the ticking has got my brain all wired

the tocking has got my vagina in clamps 

the sun needs to rise for longer now- the moon needs to make way for the bioluminescence 

this erotic heart has lost its adventurous spout 

this hairy tail has been cut off and left to be chewed by the angry bears 

the fist of the waves has risen to beat you 

the strings of my gut have untied to strangle you 

the bulbous protrusion from your front has been pixeled out 

so the eyes of my heart cannot find you - cannot ever be reminded of you 

cannot ever send signals of your shadows, your shades, your silhouettes, your disastrous ties

the touch-me-not has been awakened 

let the fangs come out now and paint my body, ventriloquist dummy, 

with 'I never will', 'I never want to'  

Disease

I love you. I hate you. I like you. I hate you. I love you. I think you’re stupid. I think you’re a loser.

I think you’re wonderful. I want to be with you. I don’t want to be with you. I would never date you. I hate you. I love you…

I think the madness started the moment we met and you shook my hand. Did you have a disease or something?” 
- Shannon L. Alder

Duarte Vitoria - There is no love, only words to get what you want

I got destroyed, and it was fun :)

"That’s what really scares me.
Falling in love is easy. Having sex is easier. But bumping into someone that can spark your soul - that shit is rare.

You could fuck four, five, all the people in a god damned room and you’d only feel a connection with one. Or none at all.

And what sucks is despite the undeniable real magnetic pull between the two of you, more often than not, you don’t end up together.

I’m afraid I won’t meet anyone else I can connect with.

I’m scared it’ll be just you.”
—Connection, Sade Andria Zabala