In that place, I learned the borders of insanity and satire are a thin line.
You come wise to the hypocrisy and pain, delivered in vain
and try to escape it;
12 pills to a blissful, peaceful snore; and somehow,
you’re insane.
I know better now. But I saw, 2 patients, man and woman,
who played hopscotch over that delicate line.
They wanted to see if the medication was working. They asked me to define the word ‘many’. Word stew splatters on the floor when I fumble and foil to try and explain, and they thanked me.
They said it meant a lot to them...
They’re clinically insane and I’m unstable.
These chalk lines must be dashes.

One breath; I am awake.
The tar serpent’s smell fills me,
Like a balloon -
Swelling and sweating.
Regretting past June; her odour
Forgetting my fragrance; my importance.
I hate its scent.

You are my dear, decadent desert,
My summer-thyme delight; Starlight.
Tonight’s your night, for you I write.
Radiant glow, fuzzed herbal hue.
My dear butterscotch icecream.

Sore arms churn thick, slick froth - Sauterne butter.
Gentle spread melts, dowsed in sweet, sugared innocence,
rich scents, then sits.
6 years pass quickly, youthhood gone;
My black swan, a third complete.

You, sauterne butter, mix with scotch -
Fermented, demented, invented to inebriate.
Golden brew dissociates reality -
Spinny, fuzzy, dizzy, funny… gone.
Go on again, dear fawn, 6 years pass,
Pant for the water, two-thirds complete.

12 years as toll to adolescence;
Icy, creamy, dreamy, element prepared.
Scoops of soft serve mix with years past - Angsty era.
Seductive spirits, beautiful brew.

At last, my summer-thyme delight dances with rhyme.
The lime-light shines; ten and eight.
Todays the date, stuff immaturity away.
Make room for the adulthoods’ good,
Scooped generously into a bowl
Shuttled and entrapped by me,
Melting, streaming, gleaming and freezing.
You awesome angel!
My pleasure supreme -
My dear butterscotch icecream.