Disentangling abstractedy,
A bee returning crazily along the path of least resistance
Flying home.

Through the orchids, flax and irises
Lilacs dripping promises,
Mist-laced and mapped with honesty
He goes home.

Morning recriminations
Bitter sprinkles in the milk,
Stood there; his mind is wandering to apricots and silk

Desire twisted hungrily,
A door slammed......
home overthrown by silence.

Storm clouds horizon kissing
Dark thoughts of something missing,
........then nothing more.

This week has been very long so far                                              
Maybe because I mashed my head on Saturday,                        
But Joe turned up to surprise his Ma,                                            
Would have bin rude not to share the MDMA.

But what goes up has to come down,
We had our fun, our chats, our tunes.
On Sunday he was Nottingham bound
Monday  a pin-pricked balloon.

Overcompensation followed
I Frontlined the pets, took the cat to the vets, did the weekly shop, used the hoover and mop.......watched "The Waltons"........I made pies and mash, grieved for spent cash, looked for a job, tried not to open my gob..........watched "The Waltons"......I sorted the cupboards, mixed up my words, misheard repeatedly, had great thoughts ...fleetingly........watched "The Waltons"

Finally Friday beckons invitedly, a time of unwinding.
I can't believe that in the past I would have bin planning  
More pill taking excitedly.More fun and lights blinding
But thank god I'm too old to be young .....       Must be  soon Spring.

Sometimes it's hard to know what is
What should....and why?
And is there any point........or not?
We're born, we live, we die.
And in between we our noses run, we bite our tongues, we lie
We lose our place, we turn our face, we buy.
There's love and mud and bubblewrap
Dropped spoons, old tunes and bills.
***** boots and plastic crap,
What doesn't make you strong just kills.

I could write something noble
something great
majestic words that soar and break the stoniest heart to shards upon some distant shore

I could write something magical
something weird
perplexing text threatening like a bust-perched raven only "nevermore. nevermore."

I could write something sweet
something of love
honeysugared letters piling confetti-like upon the lap of my only *****

I could.......but I am ****** so I will not not do much but snore.

It stings
my skin,
Ice bees freezing exposed cells.
It snows
And goes on snowing
And I must keep on going.
I yearn
For  woolly prayers  and ease to tell my,
Well,
I mean...
I freeze
Alone ,frozen  by unspoken pleas of caution.

Burnt Silk Leaves No Ash
Or Trace of it's Existence
Like An Empty Finished Romance or When The Music Finishes
After
The
Last
Slow
dance.

Like Used Imagination or Dead Man's Memory it Leaves No Legacy For The soft Cocoon or Caterpillar
To Call It's own.

As The Hoarfrost Melts Upon The Lawn
Or The Dew Disappears With the dawn
Eventually
When death Appears to Claim Your Soul,
Whose There to Say You Ever Lived At all?

Frost fronds upon the window glass owned by the night
Is cold,
And I inside this box of tin shiver within, feel old.
Still I lie softly whispering lullabies not sweet
Will he pass by
or shall I die?
My feet frozen like sleet.