in pursuit of you                          
i put myself in harms way
something ‘teethy’  entered my bloodstream
and  flooded   i hoped for the best

we crashed   and meddled   and crashed
again
a fixed ache  we were yanked back to
chairs, tables, sofas, beds
bending to the shapes and endurance levels
sounding off of their abilities to aid our act
          even thrown over washings machines
tatting against their vibrations
tossed about in bathrooms                                      
our clothing pulled from us outdoors
risking winter exposure
                                    dragged to the gritty pavement
and hurled against solid public art
all very much in tune                                            
        with natures ludic intentions
           and without a mote of embarrassment
                                               on our part

.

jump     -     start
heart-wired  flash-fired
fore and aft      i'm wit-lashed
ride   a  scutting  state   (oh-my-hate)
glare   at the creature  (will  it  look  away ?)
i'm    jolty      a    s l e e p y  menace
death        in  the  drivers   seat
slur down  drowsing
jump     -    start

.

.

often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle
day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing
  nodding into conversation  and durring out          
                                 like a tiny failing electric fan
  struggling to appear present and take part
   then whirring   into a congested cumulus  

a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee
she dribbles her features into her colourful lap
her words become a slury chum of incoherence
(she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her
she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether)

i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature)
the opposing to what may seem                                                
                 this fella supports my depressions feature being
and monitor's my decline
fleshed out to drain me                                                          
      whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision
shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face
i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                          
                           and rot in the anxious conglomeration
a distracted reality from reality already conquered
                         flagged and declared ;    
the phony thing that's real

.
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