bled satchels
gasp at the gate
lungs won’t take further,
this stitch hurts hellish
the world bent over
at least monday is
shoved, and that
ritual of being chased
performed
tuesday tho’, crashed,
caught by the uniform and
pummelled against railings,
insignias of bruises shan’t last
which way safely tomorrow?
be it elbowed behind the
back? or if minutes are sadistic,
stripped and excruciated
over into pen-nib-scratches
brambles sharp as hooligans
by the railway line where
freight is too tired to trundle
smothers keen and quick,
ridicule tho’ severe was
completed, had the defeated
sprawled like a dead kitten
i’m pee soaked y-fronts
and grunted with that
metallic taste among spit
humiliation certainly at its limit
quite slain and grass stained
scruffy as a corpse not found
for a week, there’s glass beneath
where i dare not uncurl from
there isn’t lucky but misfortune,
before the bell cowers and the
dash homewards considers, “which
plight shall be unobserved stealth?”
“which lane should be fled down?”
assured dusk will hide you but
dusk often lies, prey will always be sought
to do another’s homework
home is where fearful grows
insipid and doubting, these
teenage years often grenades
and glands, fast oils happening
succinct and cruel as a headline
the mirror is slick with laughter
knowing difference will be picked
on, hatred always likes nudging
as sure as rats in their congenital
sewers, sons are about like
magpies, mobile phones sharp
as cleavers
copied to a voyeuristic population
post its spiteful degradation,
why can’t this curse point
elsewhere or not at all?
it’s murder by tiny slices
that uncomfortable bite,
why is unnecessary torture
gleeful? some still have the
boot marks to prove it,
still that shivers alienation
and not quite fitted to be
ordinarily dull
so do not bluster that those
damned days were inherent
kindness and lenient, it
was hellish and not the route
to be better sorted, i’m now
lacklustre and thwarted,
audacious predators thieved
devoured the only time i had
fly
i will fly
to you
when the
soul pleases
there’s a prison
called life here
it succeeds at failure
reaching everyone
sincere as hatred
passed gene to gene,
or congenital protests
roaring their black sails
i will fly
to you
when the tired
soul passes
when it
succeeds
from from the husk
that dispossesses
sooner than a vindictive
headline which is daily
and metes out particular
poison
there is a cell here
called depression
successful at
cancellation
accountable no-one
achieves the daydream-
slum thinking their
peak’s facedown
and graffiti art, trite wit
succinct and unfunny
eyefuls, comments upon
the fat way we stride
mine happens to be
downwards and fooled
into thinking that wasting
is sublime
doldrums, confetti bored rain
laziness as it drips,
like wet epidemics, most
heads are full of it
i’m waiting in the sore of a view
a legless pram half a doll’s head
for company whilst strangers
keep to their noise and drift on
how many zero’s are in empty?
how many hours have eaten me
thru? ask the countdown to
quicken the pistol to be wrung
an hourglass of elbows stiff as
discordant striving, watching the
last arriving smudged evening, the
finale always falls as disappointment
knowing that tomorrow has an
appointment, unsuccessful sheets
haven’t pulled, windows aren’t for
escape, their habits too blandly grey
clock appalled silence as each
“now” perishes, at least grease
its goodbye, it’s stubborn waiting
for occurrence to happen
ensure the road has been packed
with all the blunders belonged to,
few successes gave up their hidden
mountains, applause? there was none
readying the finishing horizon, that final
absurd moon shape, it dances like a hole
on the upturned floor, that minute lingers
quite fascinated, a grasp let’s drip a note -
that has sighs upon it
will you admit me
once i leave this gaol
of ligaments, this shell
of ordinary corduroy?
sinew may struggle and the
lungs should want to renew,
there’s a whine in blood that
shouts “don’t”
discontinue the rot of here and
soar towards the elsewhere that
poets try to detail with wonderful
lines but somehow fail
loneliness fell away, an outline
now a filled in statue for insects
to browse before my sleep is
found and made into fanfare