Ode to Mrs Slovenly....
Mr ScratchyRainbow hues brushed asideDark thoughts furtively enticingExalt;'Enbrace me!'Damp sheetsVeil conscious thought,dappled vigin lightRecessed shadows running tandemContradict the here and now.Waking dreams leach my willDumped almost lifeless on the floor,pillowsScattered,comfort lost.Struggling weakly to my kneesTender,gravel peppered palmsEnrage.Anger swells my tongue asCarrion creatures jostleExcitement builds,theyScreech and peck in mountingFrenzy.Bruised and bloodiedAccepting of my fateDull ringing echoes,skullBludgeoned from inside:Then.Silence.Intensly bright,white paperCauterizes emotion,staringBlankly i paint myself aMask and call himMr. Scratchy.His long armsFlailing awkwardly,knots in stringPropel the ungainly-Unbalanced as i am by you,Buried somewhere inside meToying with my metal plated heart,iStruggle,shove you hard'Back in your box!'Naughty Twinkle Toes.Valiantly,down the yearsAttrition was your sword,randomVictories grudgingly acknowleged
restroom graffititruths have a tendency to appearin the company of filthwhere pressure forces poisonout, we are desperate to purifyand forget souls-they are mere blemishes,stains on an otherwiseimmaculate mind-but every now and againwe stoop to feel the weightof our subconscious screams take a moment to relieve pressureand flush our shit down the pipes.
BoredomMy life is a choreThere's no joyOr happinessOnly boredomAnd frustrationI'm just livingFor the sake of itWith no objectiveWith no purposeOnly killing timeUntil the day I die
Right Here Right NowThe river is deepand after the fifth vodkathe everlasting sleepcalls louder than ever - -Just one reason to stay!
i broke the sky to make youand every time i dust your hipswith my aspirations,i hear her weepinstead.
Walking with a ToddlerSlow he may be, plodding gentle histiny legs. Each stick is a newexploration three steps toanother. “come on” you shout as he trots overgravel laughing delighted at the crunch-crunchbeneath his feetand thereand back again. A dog bounds by, so much energy thatit sparks fear in the little trekker ashe clings to your leg, begging to be lifted.Arms wrapped around his world,he points at the sky, tells you its blue.
misnomeri.shrill curseof glamoured locksand lax approachlove saddles upto dry barsand backs strokedwith bent talonsand asterisk hopesnever content to make oldthe new ropesthe knotsaren't worth the fraythe tying coaxesii.limp spinein detox angleand crass poselove crawls outthe last holeslept inand backstrokesin rapid floatno new mentions makeold bones distrust mostthe marrow's chatterfloods blank emotionsiii.chalk linenears lost formand passeslove eaten upby lying cars'backseatsand vast fauxleather limbtollsnever anew, these dusksdefile and bustthey are notsynchronous signsthey're omens