Delirious foaming sips
Fidgeting for a cigarette
I look like a raging manic
Time to whistle the time away
With strategies of how I could have spent It better
( My time I mean)
Courting disaster
A youth breathing in angst
Working out the senseless semester
Of continuous mistakes
Sinking sailboat within the space of
Sea in the back of my mind
The bubbles pop like acid rain
And I've nothing tangible to soak
Up the stain
I've perpetrated my desires into
A crisp letter that I've labelled
With a sticker of a lark
Spun out on stress
Reliving the sickness
A gush of cough suppressed in
My chest
Vladimir Nabokov's "******"
Explains it the best
Contemplative in public places
With my thoughts hung like
Guitar basses
Riffs in my skull that whisper
How this phase is contagious
And I'm still the only one left of my
Peers with sweaty palms
And a sore throat
Dancing
High to a symphony of lyres
As I suddenly hit a sour note
This vast mountain road
Sliding back and forth on
Riding to a sense of home I've
Long ago forgotten
Is this tingle normal?
Is my preservation of self
Illegal?
Like that girl Lucy with
Cartier in the sky?
The leaves withered up long ago
Like dry grapes and I can't wait
Much longer in this combustible
Longing for
Someone's lies to shelter
In my soft direction
No use speaking about my
Indiscretions
Because no one ever listens till
I utter "I told you so"
I pour karma, dharma and nirvana
Into a tea cup
Finish the potion up
And start to loosen my joints
Poking along my skin in oddly
Sewn points
Walking through the doorway
From one world to another
To the waking screaming world
From a heavily dosed slumber
Seasons came and passed
Grains of sand caress the insides
Of an hourglass
Waiting for forever it seems
For some stranger I catch glimpses
Of in my dreams
Courses through my veins
As novocaine
After a bright vision solidified
In numb numbers as they said it would be
My blanket no longer fits me
As my feet stick out contorted
And my bleek sensation of safety
Seems to have become distorted
A calender left blank
I sit in a shackled ruin
I'm running on the brink
And no longer doing things
I thought knew me
Withdrawing from stings
Of the images in my fantasies

Help me stabilize
Intoxicated roads
Slurred sentences
Sipping away drifting apart

We exist in rain coated streets
Red and blue blaring
The sirens that simply take
There's no comfort in these sheets

A drink to think
A smoke to cope
A lie to hide
A note and rope

A lukewarm December
But my soul grows colder
Scraping my skin, ice, dirt off my shoulder
Chilling my spine
You body bleeds cherry wine

Dreams of a white haired horse
Summer night, quiet
Swinging chairs on the wooden porch

Is it better to be left alone
Time for your mind to freely roam
Or feel like no one is listening
You drown in explanations
You sink under

Staying awake is as hard as falling asleep
Followed by demons
Followed by voices
The sounds they creep into my skull
My thought out thoughts are boring and dull

I fade out in my words
Clinging to each word you haven't heard

....

*This poem will fade out as well
I realized I'm a sad contradiction
If you read this far.... I'm sorry

The ball is about to begin
Get your fancy coats
And your elegant gowns
Get your monocle
Get in gear
All the important people
Will be here
No winos
Or other disreputable folk
Will be allowed
So please come one
So please come all
To
The very very important ball
You will not
Be murdered and robbed.

to wound me with an arrow
take a lurid one
you're high on the barrow
watching how scare I run

burst out of usual shadows
like one-eyed albino ghoul
only to see changing weather
by unintelligible rules

sick of Gulliver's syndrome
from living in a wooden box
where's my abandoned kingdom
I'm fed up with these rocks

so try to aim, warden
I'm not that beast of burden

Walking through the city centre
the sun has almost set.
There’s a sharp chill in the air.
Birds screaming “socialite!”
Shouting coarse through their tiny
delicate throats.
Marking the end
of the day.
There’s nothing they can do.
Marking the start
of winter.
There’s nothing they can do.
Misplaced and nostalgic in crispy air.
I heard summers ghost in their cries.
I felt Autumn **** up against the **** of winter.
Still present.
Her body intertwined
in a dying pile of leaves.
She looked better in golden light.
But perhaps she feels more comfortable
wrapped
in the fraying grey coat he has to offer.

kicking lonely through the autumn leaves
you wondering how life came to this.

but we're all still here,
like everything you miss:

the moment, the moon, the mirthful child's bliss.

staring like strangers who swear they knew,  
sitting on benches while shadows grew,
rising up towards the night's debut,
moving like moths near the light of you.

On the train
Again
Strangers all around
Big and little
Hurted heads
Nothing said
Credit to
The kindest mother
Ever seen
'Tween
Now and then
Somehow seems
So long a time
Between my rhymes

Soon I'll be
Home again
Off the train
Let it blow
Let it rain
The cold will
Stay outside
And inside I will hide

Sean Hunt  
Between Scotland and Windermere
2015 English Winter