ghosting the same day
this lifetime
feels copied
a sum of
walked in
yesterdays
in the mind it’s
always thursday
repeating every
wrong hour
every rain
the same sullen grey
recognise that
minute
where it
went
and what
happens fading
can’t quite
recapture what’s meant
the
mirror exacts itself
re-exerts a self
inflicted copy
echoes of unclear
horizons where
everywhere is walked towards
today is uncertain
and worked by unreason
to feel the circle
again like a foe
a road where
going is returning
the circle waltz
and waking is sleepier
these tiresome days spilt
with weeds encroaching
this sphere we gravitate
upon is sinister in it’s
suffocated sly silence
what circles
you have been
what scenes from
centuries have rooted
the sky today is
blue cellophane
and serenaded
trees appear to have
plentiful songs
many of them nude
about fucking, reproduce
in the nest i’ve borrowed
multiplying complicit fingers
sunshine is bleary
it glares away the
caffeine swallowed daily
seventeen times to be
this upright
awake is like being
opened for perusal
that my heart is vacant
and the red shelves protected,
do not commit grimaces here
not even if honey enhanced
or acquired by disillusionment
letters appear from the slit-
mouth like rectangular spit
let them pile into unreadable
gravestones
watchers warble their
successes, this cocoon
unnotices
pastures for walls where
inciteful poetry sprawls
a graffiti larder
dust achieves archives
i molest the past most
making sleek layers of
skin where hidden shrugs
appalled shoulders
how many devils can
fit upon, the last count
was eclectic eleven
i’m in the electric light
snare, in this room
always on dusk
outside does not
consider me nor i it,
out there
only snowflake masked
weathers and deceitful
untamed wearers
inappropriate dreamers
so caught upon their
meniscus opacities
heart shruggers, thin lipped
listeners listening to the grey
monotone boughs creak
mournful in the ache of
nowhere going breezes,
minds are muffled interferences
which seven am i? too extinct
for morning, must be the mosquito
seeped evening
the day’s quiet content not
quite spilled yet not quite
lived, sheer roads are
always tomorrow, and the flat
sphere will continue, a repetitive
soiled sun commits to the same
adoring sky
must i awake from the sway of flint
grey eels taking the body i want
to forget downstream?
and the carcass of the earliest
hours invigorates fresh hours
to participate in the nothingness
felt
stains like stuck aeroplanes on
the light sore inflicted window
pane where clouds agile by
softens the skyscraper horizon
and the populations of thirst,
another day, this eyesore curse
it’s steeper minutes to wake from
to persevere in the troughs of
black opiate petals
and forward is being trodden on,
footsteps abandoned, and clocks
defaced
if only now could be erased
to drift thru’ out decomposition
the cots of rotting yesterdays
cockerels
twists morning
out from cinders
out from the
charcoal hood
there’s a shimmer in the wood
daily is a nutrient that
murmurs thru’ bone,
floors are soaked with
and the boom of furnaces
begun
chromosome
which road to
unravel upon
to surge with
explicitness?
male percussion
into the yolk, too
many scarecrows
and reapers beside the sac
a bag full of amino’s
decipher myself a
suitable alphabet,
randoms and plentiful bullets
and cathedral the sky
a network nurture of
red nourish a heartbeat
river
come bell your commands
thru’ muscle thru’ the stained
minerals that align up in
song
tucked in by stubble and
inquisitive roots, there’s
rooms to perceive and
earthquakes to commit
morning’s sunbeam is
rid of, and gloom hatches
towards windows in creeps,
tho’ spires incline to ignore
and eyes adore in the soar of
indigos
in flames breathing pinned
by a wand, come bellow sighs
up to the tawny ceiling, sat there
like snowflakes
there’s a shoulder of rain
don’t be afraid of the ocean
it brings, there’s a copy of
us in each of countless
dna brothers
necessary dying
the kind season is over
it’s flourishes narrow to
quiet n’ perish, footprint
traces on worthy beaches vanish
and calendars are drenched,
where have the wheat and
gold tarnished days gone? slid
quicker than a spider’s ravelled parcel
blows turn to scold, with hard shaped
cloud as if poured with flint, shrug
back under where the crocuses
struggle, and needles of frost thread
wood withstands the need to scarper
because such deep anchors can’t,
imagine ten thousand cadavers about
to rid their wrists of every sunbeam kept
rust announces it’s hinge, and appendages
let their dead fall without ceremony
or vigil or cemetery, lie there obscuring
discarded from this year’s lifetime