A thoughtless thought ;
a power-naught
a thought not taught
yet
still
a thought ;
toughly bred
and thorough wrought

A toxic flush of inhumanity
a brush of the Polute
mirror marred
collective vanity

A blush of Deathlessness
puffs us featureless
and in our drunkeness
we paw clumsy

Playing caress and mattress
in our distress
we commune suckling
give or break
chill post-wake
north or west
in ghosts we invest

We've bin' in this graveyard
For many a year
So I cough
Politely
To sully the still
And I tender this query
To you're ever wilting ear
''Can you see through me now ?'

Guillemot
I breath a knot..

..In urgency
I heist free a gob..

..A Bird at Sea
My eye is caught..

..by a blink
a wink
further out to Sea..

..Land fails to grip
Land flights
A whip..

..a task released from necessity.

be wary always
of my ever waiting
romantic depression

it crouches always
in the spaces between
the walls of my study
observing my progress
with a welling of loss

Put Sleep to Death
And let's purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
It would show up a Bachus shambles
(By comparison, an amateurs stumble)
Put Sleep to Death
And bright
And quick lives could flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little tongue for morals
And sorrows would be
Swift experiments
Once experienced
Abandoned
Uncovered as unimportant
Let's make all lives
What they really are
Let's put Sleep to Death
And be recognised
As blurs
As shots
As stars and grime
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity

Thieves are the night
But they are not thieves
That is just a dusty title
They take only in your sleep
And they take only what you don't have the strength to discard
In dreams you must shed clean
And rest in your new vulnerable sack
Or you shall insomniate in your kept leavings
You'll go quick mad with trains of ideas
And fast blood
Many perish when they power the buffets
And tightening elements
Instead of serenely observing from within the sway

The thieves are amiable in our sleepy wound
But stray awake
They become fidgeting dead weight in blotted corners
Or perched leaden upon your chest
Playing with different ****** experiments
A knowing one over a fearful child

They are soon to knit together
Your heart condition
Your madness
Or your nervy puppet disposition
And your **** path
To a less restless
And more organic bed

It is here that I must rest my words
And match the horizon upon a mattress
I breeze my mind
And project a welcoming state
To the thieves and the night.