cut

feels good to be free of all that gummed up paper,

amazing how the lava sets, suddenly all that rushing red is rough,

all that new wrought iron, is waste, is rust...

but then I cut some old cord,

some minor albatross,

and

I feel light, I feel limber,

like heavy timber floating down stream,

all of that gravity melted,

as I float like a bohemian...

shit happens, but when it happens,

there are ways, there are means.

moving house

little bits of the wall paper come off in my hand,

little fragments, rivets, screws, tumbling towers of dice,

vacuum up the crumbs because thats how ya get mice,

my god this world is sea and sand, sifting the pieces of it

through my hand, tumbling towers of dice.

I'm walking through decades at a time, blinking away whole days,

my god, what a way to live, sitting pretty.

life gets better, you get a new toaster, I get some more space,

a jumble sale, a car boot sale, a little rain, a little hail,

in July? but mneh March was like really hot,

be thankful for the silver lining, you can't unget what you got,

the atrophy is coming, so just try and stop the rot.

on a spit

life is a breathtaking blow,

extinguishing wishes on a cake,

heart stopping lowing croaks,

twisting to the beat pointlessly,

sitting here sweating teeth, glancing down.

because love is like rain on fish scales.

THIEF!

This was a conscientious theft,

chalk blown on lasers,

a clear path to swag,

you walked along the wall,

clear around my peripheral,

lifted a heart clear above your head,

and walked out.

oh me!?

crest fallen as a cracked chest,

deflated, lonely and left,

under duress, over reached,

stretched,

..I got caught out....

flooding the mountain tops

sparkling pillars of free flowing nothing,

tumbling out of all the words you swore to me,

you swore to me? what a battle.

I'm on the range and rattled,

refusing my saddle,

but can't you see?

you could flood this whole town,

I saw it in a grainy film,

where all the world was broken down,

where mice and mops and wizards almost drown.

flat

the dull din as it sinks in,

there is nowhere left to delve,

no more memories to shelve,

readied for the next time,

when quiet recollection,

floods back, old revelations,

new light on old situations.

no, there is nothing more to know,

we are burnt out and broken,

what a blow.

cloy teeth in the morning,

a night of receipts drowned to mulch.

boarding glued fast under foot,

a rat gnawing its ankles.

the half seeing eye,

of my chain mail memory,

covering my thoughts like a veil,

i'm protected by careful selection.