winter world calling

should i


winter world




like a child


in the dark



forsake the swallowing sun

light can be made broken

should i






the silent


should i


the sky

and the honeycomb air shimmers

accepting all voices



for thou are not eternal,

promise nothing

for flesh is never immortal,


is neither guardian

nor keepsake to memory,

should you, veiled

slip the shadow way


shall be your name,



childhood off to

the gallows and

crow gnawed dark,

nooses are proteins

lashing the roads

for future peril,

swing freely once the

last playground dies

but leashes are only

truly beginning, sexes

are a dash of acorns

and their interrupted

contents for the media

to tear at or render,

none control the

cell’s furnace panic

i imagined

but never truly

happened, what

buries the sigh

so? to complete

itself with an

unfurling tether,

a competent breath?

often i would

think, “what would

that summer be?”

intense? is it like

stars drunk? or

fireflies in terrific

stunts inside the

heart’s continual plummet?

or trying all gleams

at once? a tiny

constellation expanding

pushing outwards from

that silver sung cranium,

that blush of silvery

anticipation, a tremble

expectant, into

this world is sullen

enough yet those

infected with love

are raptures-blurring-

faster no bullet

could overtake,

there are silver cheetahs

racing as blood

i dreamt but

could never fit

the spire together,

i see their edible

silver, and hailstones

coming on command,

a copy of one another’s

attention, duet and stride

the wet shores are

sheets, aftermaths of

opals and sludge

moon varnished, a linen

confession of-allover-

animated fingers,

wreckages of, docile

with outright blisses

i was never

met this way

or approached

by obvious or by

stealth, have i

become my own

superstition my

own pretend ruin?

those eyes with, are

combustible everywheres,

compliant desired edges

where lust is caramel upon,

a slobber of bodies more

salt nowadays than

an infused tide, that love

is pathological

and loneliness is

accompanied with that

confusion silver melting

where only the lonely

abandon their gazes,

sliding in almost

touches but never

touching anyone


in love? fuck!!!

air grows besotted

menaces reason,

reconsider? there

are other preferable


once cupid’s thirst’s

been administered,

it’s doting, teetering,

lush sanity weakens,

blood blushed with

stars, flammable

inconsistencies of fever

it plagiarises


thinks imbalanced

hollows out and

down, into uncharted


drowned so,

smothered so a

copy of someone

else, devours the

mind’s highway,

exerts it’s iridescent


it sure is blindness

follow wrist first onto

all fours of submission

upon tightrope thinly

swaying, this valentine

sickens into a sweetly

meddled corpse

attrition of, knows no

cease and has gruelling

thumbs that insist on

brandishing ownership,

prints so sincerely

inflicted, mortgages

the soul

other tongues will

be prohibited, it’s

disease will acquire

a permanent bed

where the linen is

always rain damp

and lustful dirty red

stupid as an adolescent,

the minute you spread

your fingers like messiah-

wing-spans, tourniquets

round, my world fumbles

into you, phagocytised even


-into, like honey addicted

hummingbirds methadone

restricted but deafening in

want, sticky lit and bright

enticement to be stuck onto

possesses to the core

this espionage and it’s dark,

offsets cranial commandments

infiltrates the neural constellation

makes obsession fit, the lie is

forged and is nourished by

the cot that will never rotten

i hate myself for it’s invasion,

you are not my halo, i’m usually

so hole assured i rinse in past’s

affection and it’s usual thrive of

loneliness, i’m used to lonely

sheets no other has christened

stunt of the heart

the invisible

there’s a noose gatherer

who won’t cease until

all flamboyant genes

are subdued, all necks

rid of infected kisses,

cadavers to line religion

with trophy stiffness

finds us fewer, there are

hideouts among sombre

cliches and beige queues,

mosaics of wishes well

hidden and diminished,

crow surveillance can’t unmask

snowflake endurance

it’s snowing the world blind,

blindfolds everywhere everyone,

who is it that hypocrisy guns for?

shadow me further with your

obscene gallows, no atom

un-turned as rage becomes under

the hatred you seek is not here

we are dedicated shapes

beautiful for all hands over,

i heard you tore the skies

apart seeking gargoyles to

kill, to justify the church’s

downward root thru’ and

into masturbating satan

we are disappearances when

looked for, sexual full spires,

two fingers up to the gods you

manacle, we grow more naked

yet insist under this surface

of sullen dances, you yawned all

but we have pink casino buds

shoots and stalks

if urges push us so,

and they sure glow in

the intimate tasting of

one another, strewn brotherly

sea flavoured dna

deep as a tongue could go

it’s not that we are shy for

shyness implies lack of

desperation but no lack of

deviation, we’re afraid of

the blandness that mortgage

the living, so thankful for snow

enticing our joints, danger

should the entirety of desire thaws

a beautiful thing

filled with

beautifully dreamt

crackable dreaming and

breakable wishes

brittle as frozen cobweb

or as gossamer thin,


this thirst of

a butterfly’s sip

remember how we drank it

and pushed pearls fathoms in

moonbeams aren’t scarce now,

in snow a sudden rainbow

sparks azure-eye-lit gorse fires

ache of

an arc and blisses spill

off from lightning bridges, the

necessary trace roams across skin

collect wet stars as they exceed

then drip whilst falling, sticky

met air wonderfully atom singing

witness each sigh as exhales build

spires to topple to fragment to

mosaics of excitable light

such sunshine

voltage unfurls

trellises of nerve endings, and

aftermath judders dissipate

along rapturous corpses











































































of now

the imperfect rose


a garden

so perfect

it flaws even



stiffness tall

stood tree-like

without blemish, a

skeleton symmetry

roots in idyllic

copy of a

genius torso

that leafs with

breezes above

sunlight pure prisms

an amber that touches

but doesn’t scorch

worships that pause

of green

therein emerald

tender sea not

quite abrupt nor

crouching a spine

burdened stem

but where’s the

melodic crown?

tucked inside so

selfish a hinge,

innards of

blushed petticoats

about to rip, tossing

out mauve tarpaulins

where wasps will soon

manoeuvre and the

full stop swarm to

inhabit, lovers

have broken over

less distraction,

comes that sigh

of insides flinging

out, those larders

rubbing full scented

disarms panic of

the bee

scurry into such

tailor made scrolls

sweet scarves are

for sipping and

ingot parcels

come out of that

purple yawn yellow

sparkled, beware

sticky hairnets

miniature massacres

stick there, the odd

limb without a blood

sac hangs redundant,

hatchet attire for a

thirst that can’t cease


those unseen residents

some are sofa tied

thwarted by struggle,

the cellar tries to be

inert patients and

subdued dedicated

constellations, i’m

not breathing today

avoiding smiles from

the medicated sky,

and petals tho’

advanced messages

are being scribbled on

by wither

i am less now

easing into crippled

sentences as if

murmuring makes

water sense

where once

childhood unfurled


here is being


ageing is a slow

burial quickening,

being lost in your

eyes, imagine?

like petals being

torn and submitted

to that hunger of

rot, it’s mouth is

without end,

daylight is

damaged, tho’ it’s

only the drowsy

eyelid, will tomorrow

bring naught? and

the linen remarked

upon where death

sung? out from the

window’s grope an

illness begins to

sulk spreading it’s

ink literature, gowns

where once the dew

warbled are holes

mature doors for

for the cannibals

to waltz, being is

being pulled and

hairdo’s devoured,

consumed by a city

of infected tongues

imagine? i did once

a tear boxed rose

punctuates silence

with a gasp breezed

last lung

commit your floral

gown to wither

the rose has lost it’s

dew spectacular varnish

avoided by most adult

addictive fingers

there’s windswept

shock creased thru’ eyes

no tear has crept from

in absolute years


stems were most plunged

upon and paid for many


loveless listing

like all seeped wrecks


heroin motorway marks as

the devil’s unfortunate own

skin pulled over interrupting

bone, a jagged read for

anyone’s glance


were days of loam well

past now

when her body

ran with nude honey

and buds

did illegally burst open

flinging flaming ego reds

and ruinous torn at tights

the bloom was disgraced

with copious fingerprints

impolite in their forage intruding

now the sheets are

stained rank and

disillusioned for warmth that

never has depth, those

concrete hips used to

being spilt into

a labyrinth of point

blank aim

the years have dug

and the burial of

has begun it’s manure

now that autumn adheres

to life clinging with it’s

life support machine

audible shudders of being

found, smudges of where

insect paths are written in slime

and leaves have shoulders

with rain upon them

soon that morgue midair

pavement will have your sleep

forever in it’s chemical charm

farewell to loneliness


i banish your complete wings

fraught and demanding

go from whence this dirge came

you’d have me king

wandering the splinters

owning seldom, this dead

sky my only ceiling

i’d be repetition and

fewer glances, go into

that buRning cot and


leech out of me your

tiny unfleshed corpses,

the blood’s tin exposes

three year long poisons

i drank from those calendars

where minutes were imprisoned,

took to sleep’s medication

and stayed there like a

mortuary victim

persist with time for time

will ease you out of your

life, make from rust someone

quite worthwhile

another season aches

by, spring with it’s

pregnant everything

is seared by fever

windows have approach

of bones, falling softly

as innermost sighing does

piling stiff chapters

between what’s coming

the intention will be opaque

and to covet, everyone an

influenza casino

waiting for that final

shudder to inhabit,

days grow scarcer

we dwindle at the root

commit to the page’s

unwritten now, unwitting

perhaps, perchance to

soar the moonbeam plough

get up from you graves

let that anyone become

a smile that flutters the

heart width wide

wider still for loneliness

to shrivel, to become the

errand of it’s own decline,

complete me with your

mutual sighs all over

like intense rain, a

molten quickness that

silvers nerves with shivers

don’t let the hill complete

it’s darkness, don’t rid

the moon of it’s wonderful


kill off phantom witnessed

shoulders, hesitate the

vow that yearns only

quiet stiffness and stillness



“bring me” says the wave

“i’ve further repetition beyond

my bend”, a narrative completely

wet a curl of gleamy populations,

wait for the hid, that unfurl

goes inwards then inhabits pillows

where mankind blights, such

generous deeps allow losing

i’m louder when quieter and stood

when sleep is stealth, spires? not

yet, flat as linen disinterest

want to be where the stars blow

from? let dirges bleed out blushes,

unwritten pages want to be sobbed

upon, strewn and inked, where is

that sigh to unravel higher?

the root has starved it’s riotous

fingers, even when absinthe shifts

entire evenings entirely into absolute

feasting, constellations absurd ceilings

voltage without attempt “yet

shudder don’t achieve spires” a

burrow where there should be a mountain

a splinter only where an oak should be

“soar me” contemplates the breeze

“i have many tongues, too many throats

to slide from”, advance up the sky’s

lung, what azure palaces there, there

to be shimmered thru’ as you stride,

winter’s blunt is being siphoned

from, that falling only observes reflection,

a yearned for estuary heavenly bodied

“not quite” mentions the floor, “i’ve

underneath, the devil’s parlour of

forevermore, cobwebs to pack the

soul with, no peak nor valley but

eyesores, blank as the expressionless

heart that has been drunk by deserts,

blank is the source of the adult

precipice, no idea gushes the nib

out of glistening out of the gaze

that held me, adrift of nowhere,

i’m seeking that planet’s certain

atom, that tireless cosmos in a dot

or even a full stop, anything if it

haemorrhages writing, there’s

inertia against the crocus, why are

such colours improbable to gasp?

i am but not, an image between the

synapse caught like a silver shy

fish, come to slumber where inspiration

is quite dead or so cadavers appear

unclear in their meanings of stillness,

i try oh i surge a seep of unrepeatable tides

tearing thru’ childhoods, inconsequential

breaths that memory remarks upon

here all grey is tipped, complains the blood’s

mutter, would that words catch aflame, expel

like a sea that wants out, a shell that has a

circle’s centre, where i wander, those mirrors

spilt , that river backwards but always is

vast-vacuole-emptiness, dispirited cathedrals

where the glance of wings is always broken

how can i undo nothing? undo it’s least glimpse?

spires aren’t, and the fathoms won’t, where once

chrome skeletons boasted, now diminished dull,

who can guess the next gossamer road

what clues will pearl there? will rain exact it’s

shiver? or the narrowness of creation grow

thinner? began with, how it roared, embellished

with a thousand shouting comets i want to

be the bulb’s scorching filament

such ferocious desire, it makes it’s own ocean,

succeed is to endeavour to pursue the highest

built shadow, to make mold of the sun,

quarry the womb’s multiplication, what sense

has this bare page? in it’s codeine whiteness

i have truly failed, i’ve ceased to pour from

witless sky, cranial hearses thick as scarves,

that uninspired cave rots countless spires

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