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

untitled   we'd be better served
like the bulk of resting nature appears
with no obvious contortional vouch
or *******  of a species legend

is this is some kind of nocturnal dance       ?                   
              one to tune the world to whim
  it's spun around our column     
   you saturate into the night   purple and staining
unrestrained   beaming in your hostility   and  blue as wishes   i approach
rude as great depth  you supper on my motion                             
         scupper me   whilst looking as bleached  as surrender
                                                       ­     or behave
so  i charge after you  inflated  and the moonlight is revealed

moon    mewling and fully realized                                                         ­
now  for illuminated clouds   to have their bellies torn at
the earth charges with gymnastic prat        
       you go at witchcraft in a pranky manner
girling and ferning your thrift score gown      
      you drag this disco into the greeting forest
the treating darkness fills in
   like furniture addition
and the beats quicken to encourage

i tail you with athletic mammalian stride                        
whilst you whip your expressions
                       weaponized   at my pursuit

but  both of us have nature on our side
germing with merit              
every hunter    every heat            
there's teeth between those tree
and we dance    oscillate  with grins
                              and battling antics
wiving the night music

the drunken door is open    issuing fumes
the loss of what society betrays    a deflated relaxed option
                                                          ­of empty rebellion

season away life   in mood with loss
fumed with the doorway    and its dark yawn
i am reminded of putting fruit flies 'to sleep'
                            in a school lab class

courting breaths   after blue i brighten
       i lighten   with originless humour
and then ugliness anew                          
   i tighten   into some packed pearl of monster
breathe in   breathe out   courting breaths
the susurration    of all this lung
resuscitation    and it's 'good morning mourning'

then 'bring out the empathy' !  and zitty connections
and marvel over   'those poor things'          
larval in their struggles   up the redline
and envision throwing them heaps               
of hairdryers  salad spinners  monopoly boards
            vibrating cushions  for back massage
and obscure tinned delicacies  from my extensive travels
the five devils of my mind  tackle my erratic breath
five mad ideas  of how to run their lives
                        milk their hive
form a worship  and go to war..

..then it is i who goes larval                  
                          carving in on my minuscule heart
crutching in like a fractured pill bug
not daring to raise my eyes      
             for fear of offending my superiors
breathe in   breathe out
counting down the breaths til rattle

im so tired   and poisonous   and old
where do i go  my heart stuffed with this dry darkness ?
   with my aches   and my revealing pained impressions ?
death via exposure  would be timely                                          
with the short days   and straining snow   and thick winds
   i could step out   and follow their tugs and ropes north
                                        doff my gear and 'take a walk'

arthritis tippled wooden relief    plugged in a bed of mud
the leaves that decay to its side                                   
                          comp­liment the carved ones that feather the face
but it is creaked   crevice and sinuous  
  a kind crumpled face  or maybe a stern  yet approving  parent mask
two seasons of weathering                                                    
  ­                            withered   saturated and withered again      
this self unearthing
worth moulded from
the decaying green man
reapplying  for a creative birth
for a visit  on the Autumn hearth
filling in its ****** details     with broken and discarded
school yard pencils   scudded over litter  and mud
soon to be worshiped again...
would settle for a respectful gift        from a child

for all his wonders in spring                                            
              ­                  he has envied the witness of harvest
but attention goes to other gods

he pouts  out of season     for no one here  greets him

body     recover
please
                you're embarrassing me
            i want to take a walk   in the snow

abrupt and business
              this winters day
perhaps it's apt
              that i keep   what i have to say
cold and short ?

low by day    a massive moon full
a bowl of candy pallor            
and this city is taken   to a more charming realm

more than one figure takes out a camera
aims                  and   i am not a real person
     but i am represented
       by an attempt     at something 'in bounds'
                       playing it safe
i feel like greeting
     and if truly bold  asking others
      of the quality of their experience right now

.

mostly  i've lead a harmless life                            
(as harmless as a human passively could)
  watered down       at most drowning
     at most passionate   ( but for a while only)
decent imitation of life
safe... but none of this is safe is it ?                    
i am part of the expanded programme    
and it's operating at fault (as intended ?)
and the damage is massive

well aren't you the gallowgas ?                                  
           you cram the funeral into fun
hiding in a private room    suckling at your sad self
whilst secretly hoping  to be found lonely
depressions' muppet
                            *****  like confession
and hungry like the wound

.

erasing                                                       ­                   
  he rubbed and grubbed himself out  groinally
built up  with huffs and gummings of dead skin
                      all over his body
 in his mind  mothy thoughts                    
                                    became dust laden              
      and a glut of clay amassed in the gut
  all this in tomb   with his sole role  and room          

  tut-tut   he did it to himself
this is his wealth  and his jury
  peers back through time  into the wound
                              kick started it all
with excessive candy consumption   and aggressive firestarting
                     and compulsive theft   and blendlessness and obliving
ever worried    ever unmended
   arc back through the heart
         and refine the child
                as unfeigning          
                   and correctly naive

'the kid' leaps  sudden  from bed                    
points  in fright  toward the 'hippy' curtains
                      "i'm scared of ghosts in pyjamas"

the older i am met                                                      
the bolder the thatch-work of scabbing        
walls are thrown up in front of new ideas
and i am redirected       

the resinous connective issues  of the brain
     mineralization of thought
told and taught knots of gristle                                     
                    ­               enforced from childhood    they surface

i remember how things 'ought be'
the ways my parents parents  parented me
              the lessons recrystallize
cold hard classroom rosin develops       
 held in robust bond   well sold ideas are solid now 
                                         and they defy challenge

but challenge  i must insist        
                    as i resist  into reclining years
and fight this cementing form                               
founded on the dead corrective tissue
that is welcomed   by aging

.

a fat grey day   welling with troubles                                    
                                     it's been taken over   by the news
the human world turns over another sorrow
lording over today                            
    and borrowing from tomorrow
   weathered are to be    the years to come
     not knowing what joke
        the world could
       end upon

you drive my car    and i am a serious man
a passenger   thru dumbland                  
leadened head laid back                
i've been allotted time   in that liquid sky
totally fxxxed up   but it's bin a day  hasn't it?

don't breathe                              
           we are gone
beyond     we are eyes without a face
our inter-beings   all blood tea and red string
in the wrong hands   we are a ****** party
hand in hand you are my spider baby        
                    and i  am all ‘mom and dad’ at play
i dread you should say 'i don't know what you mean ?'
...but it doesn't come to that
you allow me          
           and we are smiles unravelling space and texture
miles of scope and no arrest for the wicked
no rest for the foreign
no reign for the horses   no horse for a kingdom
we are kings of this country                        
    yet we belong to this landscape
and its negative edible

riding with you (roof down  converted)            
we joined the new world                                    
we took a journey   to the beginning of time      
    it feels like we're fleeing   an extravagant shared criminal act
i look across at you  and the brood of thoughts    
are so sedate and fantasy ***** and socially writ
that i broker the realities we’ve borrowed                 (the flux gourmet splatter of dimensions)
and return us to the pair of cannibals in love that we are
                                          firing out across trip america
           an invention for destruction
invited back by life's appetite


                                             [signed] ­- a love exposure

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

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

.
and your mug shot's shining through
it's a vision true   (but the subject's taboo)
              all             ugly               here
morning sunshine    breakfast table    autumn cool
you're poised to speak   a fly lands on your lolling spoon    
then   i stand up merry                                      
i make my vital move      the table backs away  distressed
your eyes raise
   i flop open my faminous mouth   and let the fumes draw in
Surprise !
(no time for you to hold surplus breath -                             
- form an expression - make any objection)
              mechanism disjoints    like the raw riches
i whip the plumb weight of my head   and strike
mouth-chomp-grip   over your scalp
and i am working you in
with swift jaw shifts and hingery

i **** on you with a smile and gullet                                      
  (past photos of you   shuffle glaucous before my inner eye)
yap sock muscle   i operate   gumming on your head
(ours was the world ; we got so lazy)
budging in your hair   dampened by my saliva
(our timid first meeting at a bar)
and airway and my teeth softly folding back
(us in bed-us in bed-us-in-bed)
                                   and whole hog jaw agog
(the tourist we made as a couple)
i dilate and distend  crouch low to take your weight
(the rise and falter of your sleeping chest)
upend  your hands panic typing in the air        
(the eyes of your investment in me)
your feet flinging the heft back and forth   
    your shoulders break in and forward folding
my chest cracks and wells                            
(gifts we gave that touched heart and others that fell short)
a complete engulfing meal of you                
(your childhood antidotes and teenage feelings we discussed)
down my soft disposal                                  
   (all my memories of us in a fizz                                      
                         and all the inaccuracies)

...and then i head off to hibernation    
      ferrying an idea that ' i have you now '
           that   perhaps you were my enemy            
                                              a­ll this time
and i am digesting the beast
                      (what a feast !)