skinny window

inches before dusk

in amongst

the glisten

faded dukes

and disconcerted pillars


one another's


a robot bee

attends to the

foxglove bells

a warbler

enthralled by

slivered wing insects

a stoke of roots

ink from the

graceful cripple

i tend your

shimmers, of

sudden tremble

an ache

arcs lightning

thru' the back

in amongst

the glisten,

of spider cotton floors

and the moths

that assemble


a view to roam silence

that seagull

soared window

an ease of

slow drifts grey

the solitary i

find in watching

the breeze fingered


moth appalled

webs are like

some kind of

lung shimmer

a sadness breath

that tree points

from the wind hurried

cliffs, balancing birds

imperfect limbo

you can imagine

waves in mermaid

song, i drift there


he'll not know

oh the trip of rain

first sunbeam audiences

then shimmers grey

worse still, thumbprints

of water wields this

sadness further

of all the days

of cold car cuts

refusing footsteps

and unlit spilt

worthless sulks

faces drear in

daily drone

i ran from the rain's

frantic aim, i am

dewdrop glister shoulders

but root down warm

a newspaper chased

by an invisible lung

a gust of fingers

dance it's pages

a coffee dash into

butter decor and

people lipped

gateaux addicts

oh smooth soil beans

with interrupting froth,

tingles throat collars

to suffer acid slopes

stood in front of

cream volumes, sin

and raucous cherry

pastry trousers

a fellow of melted

winter, of perfect

blond whispers, a smile

lit me with voltage

the gaze i borrowed

"of look away" became

magnetic and refused

every other direction

of all the smiles i

sang mine most sweetly

rang and offered

anatomical invitation


why is my heart

rook panic?

the sigh is bandaged

then you vanish

low audible mirror

of honey thickened voices

that bees would sting

themselves to visit

circles are joined

to lessen the

holes where spare

swans of want follow

i am sugared blood,

to a spire to

soar from, to think

sexual pictures

amongst the caramel

shards of longing

ruins of butterscotch

and cold christmas cards

when you occupy the

space i belong to

shakes the windows

like cellophane rattles

star the breezes

by being shoulder perfect,

excite butterfly thirsts

on budlea cities

the page of scent

i am your creased ornament

when stood or

vertical dreaming

when the view is vacant

and there are no birds

or trees to be filled

absence is like being killed

and horizons are empty

where planes commit to,

i am clock curdled

to keep you

tonight diminishes

sit beneath a

moonlit hole

waspish traffic

hums beyond


silhouetted field in




bats uncurl like ashes

commit to

insect banquets

such fine glass wings

spoken softly grasses

coerced with drops of


the boughs are

arm gathering stars

a sudden owl


watch badgers clown

distinct magpie clones

beneath old fingers

and caramel old spruces

whispers tend to


in cold voiced


rift gazes

into blank molasses

and far off


glistening keeps

quite still

someone else will fit

i am bone perfect strut

a perfect hole for

the sky to fit, this

mouth is forfeit

until managed

with a kill, stood

around curdled cunts

your dissolved ruin

i do not want but

a cockerel thud

it fits my stomach

way up to

the inch, pause

your words am

orally drunk to

repossess another’s

blood, up to the

neck with red

confetti, an

infected port

corked with a

brackish stain

with copious


a hummingbird

blaze across


unnatural glitter

fits like a wick

and then,

someone else


ignite the window

too much daylight


clouds wander

across the bored pane

across the

yawning eye,

we are but piles of

dying clocks staggered

for soil, for terrible slumber

time has

pedalled it’s clocks

all of it’s performing

minutes are us

ever diminishing

this is


i am



people are

confined to


to the pages

of their sex

inches of

mind try to


but ether

does not


am breathing

less eager,

compel ordinary

exhale to slow

i am an

exhibit of


in dust stricken


in blood rich


who is to


my sleep

when the

sea i curdle with

are atoms



under deep narcissi

clouded, momentary

sparse and thicken

manta ray eclipses

survey their ink

clones roaming

up to the sky

stares are fallen,

weak statues in

gossamer prisms

root first murder

molecular killer,

thumbs are innermost walls

where frayed dandelions

sprawl, thistle my

heart worn wonder

subdue the window

suppress the sun's stride,

undo newborns into


unravel petals into

pulled apartness, of all

the strangled stems

the thirst is wasp full

this eyesore city

of cruel fingers,

my stillness is exact

exact as slumber

or a corpse ridden



if over

then let the

echo know

for i found

the shrunken note

it spoke shrill

few words

were deep

but made hurt exposed

whilst waiting for arrival

felt melted to my clothes

usurped with honey wanting

to mix within

other holes

i am candle shy of

superficial showing

my heart of coveted


you are here in

audible traces

i am whispered at

with noise

allow me to

happen in yours

allow me to

unfurl rampant buds

the whelming

how high will

sighs pile?

two men tall


one laid on

grey edges?

of sleep

burying himself

in deep subdued






swoon first

an atom

about to burst it’s

fragile hinges

or rehearsal

for a dusk that

will oppose light

the hearse will

line up soon enough

gaping it’s doors

how high will

tears toil if enough

rain will let them?

too much too

many stricken

by grief’s thickening


sunshine in a

blacked out hospice

narrating it’s

own death

consider the

burdens of

being stood where

winter can refuse lungs

no bough is

bright enough

now, no bough has

reach towards the

paused horizon

inevitable composition

i'm not going older anymore

minutes are stood to stick

adhere their sixty seconds worth

remove their forward yearning

returned all birthday cards and

blanked calendar apparel, ignore

the hurtle of days eager to

thread into archives

refuse time as it has to pass

undo the clocks from electric

juices, keep the day stuck

in extra strong molasses

i'll not sour nor fade in among

the greying senile masses,

my bones sing upright and

gleam calcium torches

blindfold the breaking of

others watching old breezes

skirmish dust, they become

themselves antique atoms

re-sung in decomposition

i will not belong to that

stiff alert bed, i've paused

even the sun and hold back

it's withering beam

become the virgin page yet

written or smudged or scattered

upon, entry back into seed

there to perform youth


all people

are ruins and gone

this poem’s pointless

pointless poem

insecure with dripped words,

collect myself broke moonbeams

upon lunacy try advancing,

under is silhouetted and

dead of everything meaning

a grey table where

the head is vapour

idle is the gaze

upon bottomless floors

where wasp corpses settle

and continued massacres

pointless letters sprawl

from imprecise ink,

a jumble of tangle shouts

exhibit lines of explicit


i belong to an expectant page wanting

a removed sun

without a sky to challenge

stream before river before sea

gleam before steel before rust

this cascade of before actual yesterday,

nowhere has too many indifferent shoulders

am i roaring into what’s already

been blown? there’s no amount

of shaken spleen or ire to make

the mountain dependable, the

stewing of the mind’s storm

certainly is expendable

this infuriating snowflake

nothingness, this sty of a poet’s

wasteful written, when the blood

is full of near bust turbines, there’s

nothing for the irises to glow worthwhile,

a spider with crippled ankles could

scribe better

am fluent as a stumped stem, ideas

won’t glisten, i’m hooked to an edge

i don’t want to be upon, a stunned

fly in web about to have it’s wrists

caricatured, butchered and rewritten,

i’m three raindrops short of doing


the glance is looking less

this nursery of root dwindle

where images of you alter



and final


finite whispers

hold finite breath

of silent going,


almost spent

no returning footprints

no gossamer inserts,

black pillows


softly silence falls

fades the evening

as it bleeds, comes

a hush like aphids

trace upon a stem

and the whisper

will be once more

as she in her still

porcelain gown soars

as if the soil’s turned

to gleam by frost, where

the silhouettes pry

open intimate darks

i am a sculpt of grey

in this obsolete bed,

abundant beams are

outside trying to whiten flesh

all those autumns i took

time to collect, the clocks

that had wrist a plenty

have startled into slow dying

there comes a soot deepness

a page once written now a

tide of obscuring ink, where

shall i stray now, i cannot think

that view of walkable hills has

gone, and that path that took

me, coveted and disappeared from,

now the storm has no energy to pass

come to me thru’ wintry blast

no window acknowledges at

it’s glance, come like deletion

of spring, turning heartbeats into glass


suppose the

heart was

covertly sugared

and the cheer

of rapt applause


the sky is

crystalline icing, vanilla

hearses remove sorrow

that every smile

was meant, a gift

within a gaze

suppose the lie

was amiss bending

true light

and touches

root the synapse spires,


if glisten was exertion

and not tear made


suppose uncertain

was a happening of



idyllic kill scene

when day is lit

i do not want it,

thrum honeysuckle

murmur, mid air

tongues for suitors to

enroll, drones on

the pilfer, raids

upon skirts, rouge

rich buds cambium

hinges, lanterns about

to split, a snarl

of tendrils finger white

trellises, i so wish churches

could so easily be pulled

at and broken, buffoon

bumble, a zeppelin

above inches pinballs between

the marigold loosened gold,


moveable ink dots sleeve

the drunk stems, nasturtium

hot eyelids and the

buddleia crouched like a

purple infused buddha, enthral

your butterfly metropolis,

snare brothers peep from

murderous hedges, thousands

of them, nightmarish digits

carving knives of silk

a strangle of glitter,

bough burdens complete shade

for assassination, bells where

no steeple could sound them,

nectar built furnaces

wasp wanderers

where the flies

cannon absurd

theatrics, where's

the muzzle for such

intent poison?

that blue acre

that sunbeam shroud,

i hear connective

tissue of nature's wither

a green moan to

entice permanent slumber,

foxglove spires, pink

horns for the ladybird snipers,

words once shared

here by the shrugs of thyme

and crippled lavender wrists,

i would sit away

from calloused shivers,

i wish the edge to

deepen to fulfil

it's hadean inks,

perpetrate the sky

with charcoal wings


trips sunlight

wounding thru’ window,

i ravel

i bind the sky

where those birds

go, i don’t care, i’m

about anchors and

stiff mausoleum pauses

re-furl what seeks

hidden, demand

ink to achieve a

blockade of looking

flatline that hooligan

weather into a

room’s preferred dusk,

switch the outside off

secure the knots

where past finds haven,

subdue that winter that

makes hearts rot

and to the swarm

shut their nourished

gazes, push the buds

back under to slumber’s wi-fi

like being dead but

comfy, all alternative

eyes are elsewhere

damning someone

time has no burden

no inclination,

bury the clock that

continues, bury it, deep cabinets

prefer this coffin with a

door, wish it would cocoon

forevermore, this witch

season profits influenza

wraps the landscape like an

eyesore, keeps it from entertaining

sight, puts the stars

to a horizon shaped box

undo the lines that whisper

imagery, that shows me connection,

shake words off their prison pages

so tomorrow cannot renew

i could sleep for miles, reduce

the blood to boredom, unplug

the skull and fall deserted

fathoms, fall further if i could

but then there’s no returning

from such drowning

not quite a sea

there this rotted limb

onto wonderful stillness,

the waters try to soothe

the skeleton, un-succeeding

the breeze has lost it’s

roam, where have all

the sharp birds gone?

no crab scuttles

tides asleep and the

mirror’s are paused

like blue stained

cathedral glass

keep your breath

low, do not disturb

the liquid’s page

and the pebbles keep

to their drowned quiet


see the assassins

in their miserable tides

watching from sea prohibited

cities, concrete for

corals, sullen for reefs

citizens more shark like

than any other fish

i’ve taken myself from

the wire’s electricity,

disconnected any touches

that proved too many anchors,

taken to where the breeze has

no salt additives and is

pure ocean

let that oyster shell scowl over

where the prowls of gulls won’t

discover, in with wet lungs out

with plastic pain, freedom is

an atom that knows no town,

holes are being sutured lifetimes

i’m not swallowed that way

those in false bowls stare out from


all are vertical lids for sleep to address

dwindling certainty, all are possessions

here in virtual countrysides, where the

pockets are jagged and thirst, minds

being plugged elsewhere

fallen faces enchanted almost,

disillusionment, betrayed, what

is the point of a peak when no one

bothers to reach? we are queues

aplenty waiting for those deep-ink-

hearses to arrive crow black and smooth,

i’ll not thrive that way


yearn the swell

around me

for such blueness

tho’ blunt with cold

would, i feel be

sublime sleep inside

watery sapphire

yet is to happen

and the horizon is too sharp

and to be stared at,

mermaid words i’m

sure are uttered

voices in the swirl-

dresses of such seas

beckons into marine

liquid lanterns where

weightlessness is

apparel, see the sky

float, beware tho’ there

are tigers still but

quicker fins

plentiful is about

like copious spilling

some are rust reeked

palaces, some dark as

unreadable ink, grim

sinisters in the city’s

coral, eyeing

labyrinths of valves

some are hirsute or

decadent shells,

razors quite lived

in, anemone-tiny-


nomads acquire

loneliness or assassin

company if so required,

daggers are best kept

buried until tides retaliate,

silt wide breadths where

populations have been

whittled into corpses

ribs for upstanding fishes

hideouts, blackouts where

radars can’t blip nor fierce

conspire to teeth and rip,

almost mountains of biro

blood where not even manta

rays contemplate

shoulders of sunlight can’t

achieve fathoms, that

deepness is a wreath a

soundproof occupation

this giant cathedral of water

where drowning is habitual

a body full of slotted prisms

oh yearn and yearn about

me cobalt iciness, an

inverted mountain of

wet, what narrated thru’

the abyss continues that

journey, continues into

perpetual onyx, like me

furl myself from winter

retreat from those shouted shells of

men whose seas are maelstrom vigor,

the traffic of noise is interfering

with the flatline i want possession of,

i want under it’s quiet, under,

further, deeper

who have been met? archive

sleepier, let the world around

myself blindfold, complete it’s

dusk, rewrite the invisible

page slower, further, quieter,

find yourself retracing elsewhere

it’s where i yearn, gone

from any other’s gaze, interpret

my fingerprints as seldom,

withdraw into the secrecy

of atoms, dreamier, further,


all incidences imbalance, topples

inconsequential, all protein

keepsakes, let rot insist devouring,

there’s yesterday in everyone

and hills are become either

vague, beyond or steeper

i’m getting as the minutes sigh faster

dreamful, less invited towards

others, it’s the climate of

fallen lanes where white swords

are icier, and everywhere


pale as hospice patrons

knowing breaths are leased

for fragile exits, the stage is creased

to close, such eyelid burdens

soon to be ceased, i’m recoiling as

christmas enters it’s mutter

room becoming smaller, the snow

out there duvets, illustrates fewer

footsteps, into is to feel less to go

unnoticed to recuperate

amongst jagged terribles

so the walls are closer now


an overcoat of rain

where sorrow dealt scars

tomorrow is a medicine

yet to happen

the width of is getting tinier

the floor higher

an eyelid is for always to

be hid quite wonderful

and under

succumb to unnoticed atoms

trivial not wandered against

rid the ceiling of it’s soar,

muddy clarity of speaking

and witness the inside of

a squeezed cloister or dwindle

a pulled at circle tightens or a bud

retired before seed, cease that sky that

only wants more wants travel,

commit to being never found

sudden absurd voltage

gorgeous everywhere

wonderful sugar,

hips with a honeysuckle

gesture, could your take

a tongue there?

where fingerprints snake

downwards thru’ pubic

labyrinths, taste of the

stale, a sensual gone off bud

for fingers to unlatch

ease of a shudder beneath

the ribs, furnaces at the ready

to buRn up pretty ingots, proteins

portray shivers, pleasure at

each burst upon burst then slivers

landscape muscular adventure

undo each inch, sending quivers

soft seismic events, as well as

the eye’s purple travels thru’ bone,

and ether is soiled with stars

soils so much the sky is bust

and breathing is in crouches,

mercurial is retreating and

those tiny daggers of static

ease their eel electrics

the tide that was is considerable

sighing, moon swallowed and

connected to every hum of

root thriving, now to lay there

like a dew moaned petal

in amongst the lunar like pillows

bodies jettisoned of fire and

rubescent blushes, there’s only

spat upon statues and rivulets

of dying

muscle guitar

you come with


in-between words

you sugar me

a strangle of

hit stars, and

the buzz brings up

buds from dry roots

attend me with ether

you give me attention

between this spire and

personal gloom

extract liquid

statues from adult

shyness, collect the

aches from the arch i give

i bend into you like
a driven meniscus
over you like a besotted

the strum of


harmonics occupies

the blood song well

over into punishing

waves stood within

the eye blink of a


rip about me like

a tipped tide,

maelstrom around

me like a terrible sigh

swallowed up with voltage

crimson duty retreats, and

rushed skies beneath

eyelids skid

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