wires thru' winds


write




windows are without

scarves of morning

without murmuring

fingers



the eyelid is sewn

and the mind won’t

purchase the sun or

any stray beams



prefer the room to be

a cave, a sparse wander

thru’ duvet dunes,

it’s caresses crayon charcoal



i cannot perform the

symmetry that days

want, or perforate the

stream of society’s demand



curl the corners into

ignoring, rain applauds

each a suicidal sea

hurtle



synapse won’t allow

the trouble of a hollering

doorbell, messages written

on the wind, don’t breathe them in



there’s martians going about

their acclaim to life ridding the

minutes wasting them, no one

can pilfer the head’s silence



windows do not know that

night has spread it’s silhouette

petal slick, the bed’s sentry a clock,

has been dead seven months



i’m counting sudden constellations

as they burst from constant

surfaces, thirteen more and the

idea’s planet will steady upon it’s axis



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


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