you told me once
that

i'll build a home
with these words


maybe one day we can live here

hovis in the air
liminal criminal
on the loose
and it's no use
to peruse
this boundary
floundering
and meandering
slant rhyming
is not cool
it's actually
pretty liminal
effort? minimal
and is that so criminal?

There was a glimmering space
between me and every word unsaid
A thousand breaths for a
thousand thoughts void

I was taken to a new planet
a hollow matter, no air
I wanted to fill it and **** it
then resurrect and face
My sad alien fate

To note this moment in time
Is to admit there is little time
To rest and be still
To write silly feelings
Track the change that keeps
Happening and unhappening
Thread the memory of past and future
Real and unreal
What is time but
Opposite of a thing

I have been so busy
I get energy from socialising
I feel full and capable
But I lose myself if I don't make a slot
A shell of time on my own
To pause
Remember this

I want to wake up
In the morning and look out
Dramatically, good posture
Towards the horizon of the day
Chest out arms akimbo
Stretch a light ray
Pull some time….

As 500 serpents curl up to sleep
A crack rips through the entirety of a whole foods shop
One day it’ll make sense
The folding of time
Sequences and morsels of little images
Or memories or whatever
Collective consciousness of a great catastrophe
The glimpses we get that
Come crashing in
The rip within
When you tread on the spongey moss ground
Feels like a fall from a great height
It will be just as exhilarating
But crystal clear
Like a diamond funnel,
Refracting to a point of sharp perfection.

return to solitude
where as a child you stared at green grey floor tiles
for so long that they started turning into portals of glass
the edges of the world shimmery and in those void spaces
perhaps you could see wild dogs
roaming the hard shoulders of highways

big snarly things in the city, they're free
i picture they carry all pain and woe
in baskets hanging off ridged backs
it makes me feel better

to return to solitude
carry away and cocoon in this
lonely very beautiful place

full of ice sheets and breeze-blocks and bewildered people and dogs
all traipsing the hard shoulders of highways, together

thinking about those grey green tiles back home
and also about
everyone who turned around
and didn't come back to land

pulling leaves off trees
we drudge on