No.

FUCK.

Sometimes I Wonder

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I could turn my gaze away from flickering machines.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I fell badly on my back and it broke into two.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you were to tell me "I no longer care."
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you were to take lies and make them true.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I could turn my face away from the burning sun.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I left the house and hopped a train and never looked back.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you were to marry my brother and become my lover.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you were to pick up a kitchen knife and attack.

Do you ever lie awake at night and wonder?
Do you ever lie awake at night and blunder?
Do you ever lie awake at night with dappled shadows at the edge of sight,
Do you ever lie awake and take a flight of fancy?

Sometimes I wonder.

Firstargot

There were two snakes and they were intertwined,

One biting at the neck of the other with the tails twisted downwards.

The lesser subsumes the greater, at least, so I believed.

But then I brought myself back to wakefulness and the scales faded.

But the snakes unwound and burrowed in to stay.

The wind outside blows warm in frigid places,

stirring up the cobwebs of the dream-fugue heavy in me

and the sunlight sparkles onto the dusty bedsheets

and I blink and groan as it dances across my face and sears 

that bloody-minded tyrant from the inside of my retinas.

There was nothing in my hands but the cobwebs blown outward

through the stain-glassed windows of my eyes with strains alighting on my soul.

Some to be brushed away by further introspection.

Others will remain and take some form of permanent residence

upon the red-stained places that I allow myself to cultivate. 

But with wakefulness fades the true and torturous insights

that so roughly blasted from my mind with the rising sun.

There's a thousand mundane mercies baying like bloodhunts for my attention.

So I allow myself to be subsumed by the miniature of the scenario,

There is no time left for introspection.

One day they may flower and feed upon the fertile places I allow.

Watered by rage and allowed to grow stronger by inattention.

There's always the possibility that this is all an insight in and of itself.

I fear the dawning of the sun that pulls forth this through my true eyes

and burns the recollection of all of this away.

Liminal Thinking

Walls of granite.
There, that's a place to start, right?
Oh, who are you kidding,
You know nothing about stone.
Whatever it is, it's cold
and you're far away from home
underground
or in the ocean
or on a mountain
or something.
Who knows.
There was rushing air at some point.

Anyway, there's no door.

Scrabble at the walls.
Scrabble at the corners.
Scrabble at the floor.
Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble.

There's no air in here and your time is running out.
There's a confused rush of senses.
Sight, sound, smell.
A rusted chain link fence and a thirst like the Devil's own.
A car blasting a tinny old horn.
But there's no door and the air is running out and there's nothing in the room.

You step outside the cube.
What the fuck.
You weren't supposed to be able to do that.
There's a sky out here, which is a good sign.
And the sun is sinking but there's still time.
And...oh, there's a brook or stream or something.
Have a drink, I suppose you've earned it.

How the fuck did you do that?

We put you in that box to die.
Palsied white hands (hah, get it? Patriarchy. Or something) picked you up
and locked you in.
You were supposed to wander around a bit.
Scream impotently, or rage at the heavens or something.
Curl up in the center and eventually stop twitching.
There was no door.
We made sure there was no door.
You have no rights.
You have no rites.
Get back in the box.

What's that you're cradling?

Avoiding Silence

I know you're out there,
I can hear you breathing.
Please don't stop...
for both our sakes.
There's something writhing under my skin that only you can see.
The ground is littered with dead things and you can feel them dying.
There's spirits in the clouds.
This stuff pulls away the shroud and we're finally seeing everything.
And then you raise your hand against somebody and you don't know why.
For the love of God, be careful.
Don't let it in.
Don't let it out.
Our Father, who art in heaven.
Burn the sage.
Turn the page.
And tomorrow we'll all be blind and alright.
You don't understand,
and neither do I, but we'll mouth the pointless syllables anyway.

I wouldn't wear shoes.
I wanted to feel the grass - the soil beneath my toes.
If I didn't have that, I would float away
outside of the confines of this body made of toothpicks and spit
that catches aflame in the heat of the sun
and the furnace of air and fire that I use against this uncertainty.

There's a yellow moon.
There's a dancing fool covered in paint with a dice slapping against his chest.
All of a sudden he's me and I'm meeting his gaze in the mirror
and I don't know what to do with what I've found
and there's a pair of hands on my body and they're keeping me here
but I want to float away and leave this cage behind
this sprawling cage that dances and falls down and offers up patterns and

hunger.

But here I remain.

I know you're out there.
I can't hear you breathing.
But you wouldn't leave me in this place alone.

Talk

But do you think there's a new way you could be?


I would always assume.
She never tried.


That's petty.


In fairness, this must be paranoia.
 Fuck you're stupid, Jason.

Love/hate, mummy's little princess.
Listen to me.


Every so often, we all need a chat.


She hasn't bothered.


Who cares?




Time to throw myself back in.

A Bird on Acid

A bird flutters to a bird bath,
sips,
       falls in and drowns.

A pair of wrinkled old hands
   delicately pick apart
           the sinew, joints, wing and bone.

A pair of puckered lips,
 press flesh to tongue
    swallow. Gentle.

And Miss Plath the nurse says 'Don't put that in your mouth dear, it's already dead, come inside and get a towel.'