Intoxicate me
Mesmerize me
Pull me in
Turn me inside out
Make me feel alive
Take my breath away
Kiss me til I'm drunk and
Too numb to speak
Hypnotize my body and
Make it all yours
Every inch of it for you
Take your time and explore

It wasn't the words you spoke to me that got to me. It was the fact that you actually spoke it...

i'm just bored of having to feel what other people
feel, limiting the realism of things,
a woman with a child's  severed head in moscow is
sensationalism to them, but when they get a mild
reality, Kashmir chilly  on the palette, they make
cheap Monty Python jokes to scare the facts away...
the so-called satire that requires canned laughter;
was given a library of 25 philosophy books,
not one of them by an englishman,
went as far back as the greeks,
i guess the version of english egalitarian
was not worth a communism,
somehow the two synonyms became
antonyms... 25 volumes of philosophy,
not one english philosopher...
the english intellectualise: i.e.:
regurgitate facts....
the english do not philosophise,
i.e. instead they cite facts... they're intellectuals by rite
of citation, the citation of facts,
they can't philosophise i.e. not cite (facts)...
they intellectualise, they cite and recite
facts with a dogmatism that fears a demolition
and no rekindling of interest...
to philosophise is to avoid citation:
to work from nothing,
the english cannot philosophise because
they intellectualise and by intellectualism
they cite and recite facts like an ave maria
pi = 3.14... Galileo's spectacles...
etc. the english cannot philosophise, they're
just intellectuals, they cite and recite facts,
they cannot engage from non-citation or non-recitation
of a fact, like a greek might ignore a stone
and fool himself claiming it's nothing,
the english cannot allow a confiscation of
a subject and treat it as nothing,
it would not make sense as to why charles i
was the precursor of the french aristocratic en masse
meeting with the guillotine if darwinism wasn't
discovered on the islands of Galapagos...
although i beg to differ with a thought on Gauguin
and the islands of Tahiti: make a turtle yawn
and you'll jinx yourself a blessing to live to be one hundred years old.

Dead bee
The moss grows round it
Water spray
Purify it
Pest is relative
Coming from where?
The cat stretches
Common sense
Rock bottom
Delve deeper, come on
There’s no soul here
Empty it out
Start again
Transcend yourself
Transcend transcendence
So yeah, there was a gardener
Wielding a pressure blaster
Which ripped the moss from its roots
The sun peaked
And the moss turned dust
Because the aesthetics of the pavement
Supersede existence
Who the **** cares?
Dead bee on the pavement
Blast it into the bushes
It depresses the school children
A hedgehog rots in the gutter
Flies lay eggs in its flesh
And create a home
Isn’t that beautiful?
What the **** did the moss get?
“China would have done this in a day”
My father says
Watching road workers rip apart asphalt
“It’s quite nice, though”
Looking into the concrete river
As mayflies hatch deformed
Due to the heat from the channel
Half the students stare at their toes
Wishing they were cuter
Stronger
Smarter
Because narcissism has become the new desire
Things are rotting everywhere
But we pretend they’re normal
**** man, rock bottom
The children pick up the bees
And stick them in their mouths
Until the moss completely coats their hearts

When bad things happen, I know you want to believe they are a joke.
But life is scary and dark. That is why we must find the light.

My chicken on the vegetable plate I just prepared is getting cold
I write with no music
One of the longest yet
I warned you.
Regardless of where or how you lay your head
I know. You know. We
No, no we.
You were never my we.
This past week, moments involving right now, my path
They all shook my hand, pulled me aside
To tell me that I'm headed in the right direction
That I'm the kind of person they are looking for
Went so far as to say I'm a genius, a revelation
But you had to be the first to tell me you said so
In all those other synonyms.

I think, I was right in my instinct today
My instinct of showing up, face to face
You wouldn't have dealt with it
Any other way, telephone syndrome
Little boy, lost little boy
Syndrome.

I shredded up your note, dumped out all the red wine
You love to give and take away, all of the time
Your mouth twitched tonight
You stared and looked at me
As if you may never see me again
"Your eyes look tired today"
But I looked cool, you said
I scrounged around on hot coffee and deviled eggs
I sat at the table for about 4 hours
I look back now, I made so much progress
Anxiously waiting for you to come downstairs
You couldn't even stop by to say hello
You told me I could come outside if I wanted.

We rode on the train
I stopped you a couple of times in the freezing street
Thinking maybe, weakness and your love
Filling and driving your face
But you had stayed up late in the night
Drank too much
After you stopped answering me
Told your best friend, who kissed me on the lips
Which now seems like centuries ago
And decided once again
Decided once again
Decided once again
LOOP LOOP LOOP
LOOP LOOP LOOP
LOOP LOOP LOOP
Dear God, Layne Marie
He told me he was so sorry "Layne"
On the train.
My name is *******
Layne Marie.

Can that just be it?
Can we really just be done now?
Little green jacket, your chest hair peeking out
You looked at me as if I was gone forever
"And then the swan flew away"
You said you would tell your children someday
I'm a fable, I'm a tale
And thats all I will ever really be to you.

I removed myself from the group
I cut ties like syringes filled with *******
It wasn't enough that you held my face
That one night in February.

You stopped commenting on my poetry
No matter how hard I tried, no matter how MUCH
I stapled or repainted my face, or us
I never saw another poetic thought out of you.

I knew I had to go
I knew I had to be through
As I called you on the phone one last time
And you had trained yourself to sound so removed
Another woman from your past, you intend to be around
Tonight, something may happen, something may not
You called me two days ago to reassure me
To reassure me
To reassure me
LOOP LOOP LOOP
Stuck in reverse
Stuck in reverse
Stuck in reverse.

I didn't have anything sharp enough
So I scratched myself good with some tweezers today
Before my little interview which of course went so well
Before sitting and waiting for death
For the death of us
For the death of us.

Long overdue
Me flying, and flying away
Was so long overdue
I've been here, and I've been here
And I've begged you to really see me
Your eyes looked so sad on the train
But your voice convinced us both
To walk away.

I got off the train
I didn't look back at you until right before I walked through the doors
You tried to look pleasant
Like this wasn't the end of the end
I know exactly what my face looked like
Old Hollywood sorrow mixed with swan freedom.

My mother says we will look back and laugh at this
At you and how I lost myself in the storm of newness
But I wish you all goodness
But dear Zak,
My God, I was and am Captain Hook
Thats never going to change
As I step off the train
You remain, a swan tattooed to your ankle
To remember the most romantic love of YOUR
Life.
Loop. Loop. Loop.
3 times the charm.


She flew the coop
And with fury and drive
Went her own way.