swallower

weather maddening its bleak hat again

deriding what shouldn’t be far upstairs,

oh this day’s dirty unreadable ink won’t

listen whilst headfirst onto ill patterned

linoleum, and the stars have been kicked

earlier, before midnight’s creased hands a

clock thrown disarmed from tutting, slain

there like a dismounted tongue, unsure of

i think it’s eight a.m. but wrist sore exorcists and

the way the pigeons have vacated, sill voyeurs -

they are elsewhere in gossip breadcrumb waltzes,

hints of, nudges gasp, am crashing everywhere,

skinful hiding in pillows where shouting can be

muffled, whilst breakfast empties and the table

scrapes, a door retaliates and a car revs and roars-

oh what a defunct lion screeches

am gazes whilst clouds cling to addictive greyness

a successor to hopelessness it returns its crow to

rebury into its flammable nest yet again, the head isn’t

worded anymore, out there aren’t clues, panoramic angels

in their so ordinary gutters, sadly all  eyesores

the pigeon-weirds in their clubbed foot romances their

altars of bread in fermented churches, lisps of rain wets

the wall where erosion gorges, swollen road obese with

rasping tyres, whilst here is proven silence, time simply -

gnaws

i dress as a ghost, wear a thin t-shirt that says “ god help

my bones”, wintry jeans and sulk black shoes, a few strides

down to where the kitchen mouths such a bad mood, words

as missiles but not well aimed, smudges me there into his

stubble lair, hardly a suck of a kiss is mainly coldness

punctures and re-claws back silence “WHY DON’T YOU

TOUCH ME HERE?” makes the cereal and goji berries

shake a table full of tiny earthquakes, oh affection-less

heir, a gargoyle is murmured, a near closeness miss but

refuses, i am that unreceived boy with dead, dead hair?

doorway slams its throat, and the leopard growls out from

its engine, then gone and quiet re-churches its own miserable

blues, a melancholic inmate from a window to watch from,

crows on the fence make obscene music and then some,

outside seems to re-swallow itself into nearby afternoon

here is empty room’d

a deity leaves his transit van and is almost pathway’s up,

delivers a smile, and walks away deep arsed, wish you’d

carry away my loneliness to some awkward pier and

completely drown it there in the dingy in and out tides, and

quiet perseveres with its morgue, its sculptures

out there you are somewhere pacing the protein of

desire, the carcass i so leant on is oxygen swapping

with some handsome another, delved back seat or in

a bar named “the pink crocus”, spittle spells out disloyal,

spells out affair whilst spasm fits then spires

here late afternoon bleeds, fearful sits in the gnaw

of 5.30 and homecoming like a shark, his voice

sharp as a typewriter, kisses won’t be different they

have lost all their blaze, here as a crouch like a magician

starts to erase, i know i know “YOU’RE UNFIT FOR CONSUMPTION”

am its inmate finale, an inmate lonely,

why did we ever bother with beginning? later

bludgeoned towards blisses, it wasn’t good, it

spread like seasonal and daily hurt, you are

an unpaid vessel for semen