.
you're at the front door                                    
you're in through the front door   my door 
  without knocking
face flushed with malice and ****** visions  
"uh-huh" i say
there's a cotten shopping bag                          
                    of who-fears-what   in one mitt
and you throw yourself                    
                   on my sunken couch
you unzip those mad pricy leather boots
with flames down the sides
and clutch your bag to your chest  
with meaning and taunt
        leaning toward
                  a smile  crocodiles your face
          your clock ; three forty seven
your mind ; immersed in some midnight woo
a witching verse and a fortune boastful and blue
am i to be involved in your clockwork mockery ?
(i have been your collaborator                          
              and coal mine canary in the past)
  do i even want to be invited ?
i don't know any better   i am  as always  excited
"alright, i'll bite .. what's in the bag ?" i say

old lady passed out                
wind and leaves do battle      
she is plagued by shadows
is it rude to wake the sleeping
to check they're not dead ?

time is fettered                                          
new leaf litter       feathers my doorstep

time is fettered                                          
letters remain by the door
silence fills my chest

the wind carries feathers                        
flecked in blood
(violence in the food chain)
my brain releases
               and silence fills my chest

bloom wounds brightly
ignition
ventilated scents      and the air is roused

flood this forrest          
         like you forecast
and test how true      
         the treehouse i grew

i lay my body dough out                              
        a soft slab of relief                                       
                           cooled on the fire escape
                          loaning my spore to the night