...love is hunter sick nerves you enter dream love is puncture it is green with life lush and suffering and kitchen frot and menial wreck and the reburn of childhood excite a spell and sale of a mental thing and incompletely rheumy-tunes...

applause of pigeons lifting   a cluttered company
they high circle hurt  between winter stark          
apartments brittle      and settle in braver             
perch and concrete sill
 frosted  but in the sun

i've bin wilting in the wings of half life
some kind of tinsel of decay
making chattering bids for attendance         but lack and fail                       
pimpling   and then deflating          
                                    
    tiny chasms visit me
chittering little wheezy ******* of creativity  spazzing                    
and then weary organisms spatter on the micro lens
gutted    they were shoddily made    they're to be  examined           
                   (after all that genetics..... what did go wrong ?)                              
a probing at discussion and decisions
tend    now     to a humiliating life                                                      
then  a step up   ; a weak and easy one                  
    followed by     ambition !         one to lift and give life
reactors in the gut with macerated heavings gunged our way
incisors and incisions rudder me
and  together with my nouveau umbrella family
betrayed from our hammocks, hummocks and  nooks
we queue on up   for 'the things'        
           in accord    with good society
self reprimanded   in defeat ?

hospital bed                                      
                   wedded flourish of decor
catcalls foam the past                
                   behind the eye blind     stimulus
limbo scapes rake...          
                                then nevermore

love bulges  and it's all  geography              
worlds  words  and lust-letters  seem so tenderized
but it's on paper   folded
origami    and our love now has geometry              
      and the side effect of death  is the loss of memory

     love whispers  whimpers  then is vague again
until new moon and tide   and then a **** molding
where it may proven   in public
once again  a ***** idolatry

no noggin knocking     no cranium colliding
no brain bashing  head hammering  skull scraping
                      scalp scoring  or crown clonkelling

no melon mashing   nor loaf lamping
protect that thinker   for imaginative and feeding dreams
                  so.. to bed with ya

no cot rot or bed sores
no blocked noses and dino-snores
just sweet-sweet dreams