397 samples of man,
I need to let them in.
397 whiffs of stupor,
Behind the door,
An arctic nursery.
397 beads of dread.
I will be suspended in bed.
397 needles till dawn.
Will they hold on?

I have words countless,
Yet none that I can say.
I have thoughts abundant,
Though all in disarray.
Ideas I have some,
I keep them in my head.
Dreams I have enough,
I leave them in my bed.
I carry on moving,
Dropping as I do,
Little crumbs of abstracts,
In the light of moon.

Black and white tomb.
Anamorphic face.
Indistinct frame.
Abandoned my womb.
Quit without a trace.
Leaving me in shame

I'm up,
Just in case.
I do,
Just in case.
I grind,
Just in case.
I collect,
Just in case.
One day,
Two days,
Three,
Just in case.
I store,
Just in case.
Four days,
Five days,
Six,
Just in case.
In case I'm guiltless.
In case I'm chaste.
I'm collecting mine days,
Just in case.

Let go,
Let time flow through me.
Whistling up and down my hollow veins.
Swirling and flattering on its way.
Knocking on windows,
Barging through doors.
Wreaking havoc,
Instigating wars.
Between me and myself,
Keeping scores.
And I'm always losing,
Both of me.
Losing myself, my sanity.
If I ever had it,
Time has it now.
And I am left with hollow veins,
And no time.

When I don't,
Unless I'm wrong,
If I want,
I want for long.
Then I might,
For endless bliss,
Though I'm right,
I sometimes miss.
I miss,
I miss,
A kiss.

Nothing was said and nothing was done,
I was in bed but I still heard the gun.
Go off in the distance, a shot in the dark,
And a lifeless body falls in the park.
A red stain of blood like some kind of mark,
And all the witnesses are covered with bark.
The park was empty, as now was the gun.
And the lifeless body was all said and done.

A little black square,
Jumping out of
The blank and white page.
Bleeding ink,
Oozing traces
Of what's beneath.
A little black square,
Jumping on,
The blank and white stage.
Spewing pink,
Glop.
Seeping slop.
Spitting out words,
In chaos,
Disorder.
And then it's gone.
The paper has soaked it all.
Back in,
Again under,
Beneath the surface.
Of my world.

Ripples of scentless odour,
Diffused with every beat of my heart.
Through my skin.
Pulsing out in faint circled puffs.
A fog enveloping me,
Stretching thin, long fingers,
Tapping on the shoulders,
And stealing up the noses,
Of all those,
I might want.

Out the window,
One by one.
Ever said,
Never done.
Resolutions.
And I'm here,
Left with none.
Never can,
Ever plan.
Solutions.

I feel my petals drop,
Slowly on the ground.
Leaving voids, emptiness.
Leaving me undone.
Bare.
Barren.
Unsound.

Bare,
My head sheared,
My mind confessed,
My skin peeled.
My soul undressed.
Bare,
No cover,
No hide,
No veil.
Bare,
Stripped,
Barren,
Nowear.

Blockage,
At my age,
Is sad.
No flow,
I know,
I had,
For so long,
Was wrong,
And mad
With thoughts,
And lots
Of guilt, and add
To that,
The gnat,
Inside my brain.

Lights,
In the street,
A long, long row.
Arching and curving,
To the end of the road.
Lights,
In the street,
A cortege.
Little bright specks,
Stretching far,
Far,
Far.
Away they stretch,
Behind the bend,
Bequeathing a glow,
A luminous thread.

A line hanging,
High.
Between before and later,
And I am now,
Suspended,
In between.
A pendulum pulsating in the wind.
Between before and later,
Paused,
Hoping for a cause.

Unlocked,
My head unbuckled,
My arms spread.
My mind unshackled,
My heart prepared.
Unlocked,
Head to toe,
Unfastened,
Untied,
Undwelt.
Thoroughly unhitched,
Save one chastity belt.

Pale sunshine yellow,
Fine, gentle, brush strokes,
Coating cold, hard bars.
It’s bright and summery.
Glowing warmth.
In between the shadowed lines.
Crispy breeze scattering grassy scents.
Dandelions seep bouquets.
Beyond my airless, noxious cell.

The dark bead dropped on the cold tile shattering into tiny droplets before fusing again into a dull black mass. The edges creeping forward, outward, swallowing the border lines, expanding, launching thin arms, with gaunt, bony fingers. Soon the dark is all there is outside in, filling the lungs, crushing the air, the life.

My head is spinning round and round.
I lost my rubber, rubber band.
It's white.
It's small.
Was here right
Now! It's gone,
And with it my phone
Is not tied neatly,
And with it my mind,
Is not together completely.
However will I keep my sanity at hand,
Without my rubber, rubber band!

Air in a box for that day,
To gale,
To inhale,
To breathe.
Time in a box for that day,
To use,
To muse,
To need.
Calm in a box for that day,
To flow,
To know,
To touch.
Love in a box for that day,
To trace,
To taste,
To match.
One empty box for that day,
For the wilt,
The guilt,
The blame.
One empty box for that day,
For the pains
The chains,
The shame.

It is heavy, the brick,
With another on top,
And a third,
Forth,
Stacked in a *****.
Weighing down, razing my heart.
Squeezing all blood and life out.
Killing joy, extinguishing air.
Bruising, abusing,
Crumbling prayer.
Where will it quit,
This tower of pain?
Will it before or after,
I go insane?

You were already broken,
I know.
Before you made me go.
Before we crushed.
Before we met.
You already had a set,
Of faulty wires, a lacerated link.
And I knew,
But I didn't think,
About the tear,
I didn't care,
I wanted you.
But then it snapped
And I got trapped,
In a labyrinth,
With you in every corner.
On every next,
In every former.
But I need to remember,
You are broken,
And you dismembered,
Me.

A well, a pit, I'm sinking deep.
Surrounded by towering walls, I weep.
Soundless, I cry,
Howl to the sky,
Far, far above,
Out of reach,
Out of hand.

Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one breath,
One breath, holding all the air,  
Away from me,
Turning me blue.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one taste,
One taste, holding all the flavour,  
Away from me,
Turning me stale.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one ray,
One ray, holding all the light,
Away from me,
Turning me dark.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one tomorrow,
One tomorrow, holding all the rest.  
Every day of my life is holding one tomorrow.

Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one pulse,
One pulse, holding all the hearts,  
Away from me,
Turning me sole.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one thought,
One thought, holding all the minds,  
Away from me,
Turning me dumb.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one follicle,
One follicle, holding all the buds,
Away from me,
Turning me bare.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one prospect,
One prospect, holding all the rest.  
Every day of my life is passing by.

God is calling me.
Whispering in my ear.
My darling, my dear.
Come to me.
I want you here.
God is calling me.
He wants me near,
But I can't hear him,
I can't hear.

One tile, Square and white,
Repetitive, blank and slight.
Reflecting me, not right quite.
One tile, cemented tight,
Surrounding tiles, left and right,
Reflecting me, just in spite.
One tile, by the bight,
Early morning, late, late night,
Reflecting back, a sore, sore sight.
One tile.
Square and white.

A snowball inside, with no snow,
Just layers of guilt and nausea below.
Layers, wrapped, one on top of the rest.
Layers of nausea and guilt, stressed, pressed, wrest.
And the ball is rolling around inside,
Picking up more nausea and guilt on its ride.
Getting bigger, getting fat.
Blocking my airways, leaving me flat,
On my back with nothing but dry, hollowed cry.
Salt burning my flared eyes.
I'm sitting inside,
The snowlessball, heavy, wide.
I can't see past it, I can't see behind.
I'm looking straight, directly at it and try, I try, I try to cry.
To drown it, diffuse it, dissipate.
It doesn't. It sits there, full of hate.
Hate and nausea and guilt,
Layered, patched like a quilt,
Waiting for ME to quit.
Me and the ball, in the middle of things,
Between us a chess board with no kings.
Only queens, inside my skin,
And all queens can fall, and all queens can win.
I have the black ones and he has my sins.
Spread on the board my sins and my queens,
Between me and my guilt on a mid summer's nightmare.

Picture, picture, picture,
Vision, vision, one,
Two, three, hundred,
Chasing me with a gun.
Visions, hundreds, chasing,
My mind is a Zoetrope.
I'm losing my mind, is losing me,
No mind, a kaleidoscope.

I have new lines,
New strands of consciousness,
New threads of mind.
I have new lisles,
New warps across,
New wefts around.
I have new sanity,
Minus preoccupation,
Plus sense and sound.

Condensed part II

Condense the want in drops of fault,
Mix with water and some salt.
Stir to make the want eruptive,
Fold yourself and lie adductive.

****** words are not attractive,
Their charm invisible, misplaced.
Covered in red plasma,
Concealed, unseen, unpleasant.
****** words, of ****** days,
Are put to rest.

Some days I wander,
Others I don’t.
Some days I wonder,
Others I haunt,
Me.
Still, some days I wander,
Others I swirl.
Some days I wonder,
Others I curl,
Inside,
And hide,
From me.

My **** is lacking juvenescence.
Outsourcing hormones,
Injecting youth.
Youth comes with puberty.
Reliving puberty,
In a mean body,
With a middle age mind.

The light is no longer mine,
If it ever was.
The darkness, nearer, herer.
So close.
And I am standing,
Half not,
Half lit,
From the lightness residue,
Left in my pit.

Dawn is outside my window,
Behind my walls.
And I am here, inside,
Restless,
Sleepless,
Dreading dawn.

All my vim is leaking,
Dripping slowly out.
Salted vitality,
Etching streaks of drought.
Leaving me barren,
Deficient of birr,
In need of my ardor,
With nothing but blur.

I am the clock.
Spinning,
Wrapped around an axle.
Hands twisted over my head,
Bent sideways,
Minutes,
Hours.
No seconds.
No time for seconds.
Hours pass in minutes.
Minutes pass in seconds.
No time for seconds.
I am the clock.
Days pass in a whirl.
Hazy, dazy, blured.
Sunrise as sunset, as sunrise,
No dawn.
No morning, no noon, no dusk.
Just sleep, stagnation and dust.
On the eyelids,
Skin,
Mouth.
Into the lungs.
Stifling my breathing,
Contaminating my blood.
Dust.
A thin layer,
Inside,
Outside,
Around,
All around.

The bottom seems deeper today, darker, wider, more consuming.
The bottom feels eerier tonight, scarier, heavier, more looming.
Yet somehow there's a familiarity.
Have spent so long here, it's some kind of home.
The phantoms and demons keep me company.
But is it better than being alone?

Lines, in between,
Dividing.
Separating,
Necessity from obsession,
Air from depression,
Bother from pain,
Madness from sane.
Sadness from sorrow,
Today from tomorrow.

I see me,
Walking,
Down the street,
Looking utterly, foolishly, obtusely, insanely, ridiculously,
Happy.
I'm eight.
After that,
I broke my pate,
I gained my freight,
I found my hate.

I see them come,
I watch them go,
Not stopping here,
Not looking,
Not thinking,
For a moment,
To stay.
So still,
I'm talking to myself.
One more day,
One more day,
One more day.

Night,
Sleeplessness,
Unsettled restlessness.
Relentless.
Voices,
Whirls in my head,
Reflecting, repeating,
Ceaseless.
Morning,
Repentful,
Resentful,
Forgiveless.­

It's all in the fine print,
At the edge of the page.
The do's and the don'ts,
The ex and the next.
My life as a manual with written consent.

One thought,
Replaced by one,
Other, still none,
Nother.
Flooding, dudding my mind.
Clotting, blotting behind,
My eyes.
Fixated, unfixed, entangled.
Unstable, at the end of my rope,
Strangled.
One body dangling,
Rangled,
Mangled,
Taut.
Head dropping, rolling on the ground,
Echoing,
One thought,
One thought,
One thought.

In,
And out of,
Myself.
I go,
In and out.
Pouring out and
Crawling in.
Spilling out and
Climbing in.
Spewing out and
Trampling in.
My knees are bruised,
My shoulders slumped,
My head is dizzy,
My thoughts are stumped.
My body is a sieve.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
I skive,
One slice,
A layer,
A layer.
Spreading a carpet of myself, flat.
Now all over, I'm the same height,
Much easier to go in and out.

A thousand flavours on my tongue.
Bitter, sweet, bland and tang.
One million degrees of hot.
One persistent taste of fraught.
The sharp sting of pain and blame.
The aftertaste of guilt and shame.
The taste of blood,
The taste of death.
Of annihilation,
Of one last breath.
A taste of anguish, of despair.
A taste of horror, smothered air.
A flavoured terror, a maddened stare,
Underneath a ruthless snare.

My head has separated from my body,
Rolling on the ground,
Getting kicked around.
My thoughts turning and churning,
Losing their place,
Losing perspective,
Losing their sense.
The world is twisting and warping,
Losing its purpose,
Losing proportion,
Losing its whence.

Seeds of sadness,
Planted,
In my ground.
Buds of sorrow,
Sprouted,
In the sand.
Shoots of dysphoria,
Covering,
The land.
Trees of depression,
Growing,
Where I stand.
In the middle of the land,
Sinking in the sand,
Disappearing in the ground.
Bare trees,
Are left,
Unsound.

A frozen soldier,
A silent guard.
White faced,
Barking, mad.
A voiceless witness,
With ****** roots.
Recalls,
Relives,
Reminds,
The boots,
That crushed,
That hushed,
Last grasp,
Last cry,
Last gasp.